


The Hour - All we have is lost

by Samstown4077



Series: Randall Brown / Bel Rowley Collection [1]
Category: The Hour
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, F/M, Kissing, Romance, Sexual Content, Suppressed Feelings, after Freddie's death, and suddenly I wrote more than one chapter, inspired by other fics, m-rated, unconventional pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Randall Brown/Bel Rowley fic. Freddie is dead, Lix has left, and Randall and Bel trying to safe "The Hour". Knowing the show will go down, they work hard against it, forgetting that they should allow themselves to grief and to reflect. They have nothing left, except one another. One night, in the office, they find each other facing not only their emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01_We are lost

**Author's Note:**

> So I took a wander into another pairing, and got inspired after reading these two fics:  
> [To the Lighthouse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4005799/chapters/8998516)  
> [and the sprinkled words around your collar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/983873)  
> Basically the only two fics about the pairing Randall/Bel. After reading a post on tumblr a while ago, I somehow started to ship them a bit, and after reading these fics, I found myself with an idea in my head. I wrote it down, as I not wanted to bang my head against a wall.  
> Note, these fic is m-rated and has aside angst and drama, some sexual content, but appropriate for the characters.

It had been tortures weeks since the tragic occurrence. That’s what people called it on the floors of the BBC. A whisper, already a ghost story people told each other. About Freddie Lyon who had died after being attacked by the Mafia, savouring his safety, and in the end his life for the story.

It was a high paid price, and a shock to all at the Hour and the BBC. From there on, everything changed. Freddie dead, Hector doubting himself and Lix had been gone too. No one knew where to. One day, she just didn’t show up for work anymore, and no one questioned it and no one really asked about it.

Left behind, Randall Brown, Head of News - unsure of how much longer, as the BBC seemed to plan to shut the whole thing down.

A journalist had died, they couldn’t go on like that. They needed to do something - what, no one could tell at the time.

Bel Rowley, producer of a show that hadn’t aired for two weeks after the incident and then had tried to come up with a good story, but the newspapers only had talked about the past, no one cared about the things they tried to bring onto the screen.

The Hour was about to die. Everybody knew it, most of all Randall and Bel, but no one spoke it out loud. It was all a run-around, a guessing, a “ _we will see”_.

That the show had been decorated for years and was the best news show on the program, was now not a blessing but a curse, as no one wanted to be tainted with the cancellation of the show. In the end it would die out like a wounded animal, in this Randall and Bel where sure about.

Nevertheless, everybody still gave the best for the show, and worked long and hard. Randall and Bel even harder and longer. If they would go down, than with glory.

Somehow in the last weeks they had found a habit of meeting up in his office, late before they would call it a day, to speak through the topics of the day, of what they should bring onto the screen. They smoked a cigarette and Bel sometimes drank a glass of vodka, because it was the only way to handle all this.

All this - the stress, the certainty of going down, half the main staff missing. This - Freddie dead, Lix gone and Hector probably drunk at home. Who could tell these days anymore.

Randall still didn’t drink, but he watched her sip from the glass every time, and found himself remembering how it was to drink. How it was to down a drink with one gulp, how a 12 year old whiskey used to burn his throat, how the heat in his stomach spread through his veins till his ears burned red. A faint memory - like so many things.

“What would happen if you take a drink?” Bel asked one evening, it was almost ten, most of the staff had been gone home, and she had her second vodka in the glass, she used to hide in her drawer with the bottle.

At the beginning of their new invented evening meetings, she had taken a quick gulp from the bottle, but then she had decided this looked more alcoholic as to simply bring the bottle and the glass with her to his office.

Randall had looked at her first scrutinizing than he had tried to judge her for it, as it was not professional. He very well knew his people liked to drink - first of all Hector - but he once had said, as long he was in the meetings and they were still at work hours, he would not allow it. But work hours were long behind them, and it was Bel and in the last weeks he had learned, that sometimes it was better to give a damn and had said nothing at all.

She had taken not one day off after Freddie’s dead, not one, and he thought highly of her for that. It would have been understandable if she would have taken her time, but she couldn’t allow herself to do so. Not in this job, she didn’t allow herself any weakness, he knew that. So the only thing he saw, were tired and red eyes in the morning, telling him, she had probably cried all night over her lost lover. It was more as he ever could and would allow himself.

Since Lix had left, he had tried not to think of her, what failed of course. First the finding out about Sofia and then Freddie, had made her go the final step. She would have left without Freddie’s death, there he was sure, only later. There had been no real hope for them to get back together, but it had hurt him to find her desk empty without even a note. At least that she could have done. Because it was him, and not anyone else.

“I would probably take another, and then another, and would get drunk beyond belief,” he said, watching her sip from the glass.

“So, what do you do then?” she stared at him. “How do you do it? Blocking out all this, all the terror, all the pain?” she pointed into the room, as if the four walls were the threat, as if ‘ _this’_ was graspable.

He wanted to tell her, that he didn’t block out anything, but that would have been a lie, “I rearrange things,” he then said dryly and made Bel snicker over it for a moment. He didn’t join her.

She took a few drags from her cigarette, watching him. She thought he had gotten thinner in the last weeks, but she couldn’t be sure. He definitely looked tired, in the morning as in the evening. Did he sleep? As much as she did, probably.

Bel knew he had been with Lix all those years ago. Lix had given it away, after one glass of bourbon too much, but Bel had kept it for herself. It was none of her business, also she could feel he was hurt when Lix didn’t show up anymore.

For a week his ticks had became almost erratic, and she found him often redoing his tie or touching his glasses, sorting out the blackboard and it made her angry seeing him like this. She’d been angry about Lix. She could have said goodbye, but she hadn’t. Maybe she had, but no one had noticed. Lix was always someone with a propensity for “ _between the lines”_. As she had been mourning over Freddie, Bel had lacked attention. Whatever it was, she had been angry, and then Randall had slowed down with his OCD, and it was a sign for her to forget about Lix and to move on, as with this show they had to keep alive, because it was the only reason to stand up in the morning. This hideous 60 minutes show.

A clock was ticking somewhere in his office, and she hadn’t noticed it before, but right now it made her almost nervous, she followed the ticking to one of the shelves, seeing a little clock there. Tick, tick, tick.

When she wanted to take it, she heard him move, stand up from his chair and walk over to her.

“It’s unnerving,” she only commented and turned away, toward a cork board, where he kept all current important topics. “I give us four weeks, than they are going to shut us down.”

He gave the clock a glare, only now noticing, that the thing was really a bit unnerving, but then turned away toward her, hands in his pockets, “Yes.”

“Is this all you going to say?” she turned around, looking at him, stern and like a petulant child. “Yes?”

“What else there is to say?” he asked, frowning, biting the inner of his cheek.

She went over to his desk and stubbed her cigarette in his all so clean ashtray, then emptied the glass in one gulp, before placing it onto the corner of the desk, knowing it wouldn’t please him, as it would probably leave a stain or something.

“Because you’re the Head of News, and if you are not going to convince me, this show will survive, what reason there even is to come back tomorrow?” both her hands were on the table, her head hanging down slightly. It was unbearable sometimes.

She was right, some sort of, but what could he say, everything would be a lie. Like it had been all those weeks. There being here was a lie, there doing as everything was like before was a lie. There non-grieving was lie. He was tired of it.

“Gosh,” Bel hissed, about to swirl around, “you could at least-”

Randall had approached her without her hearing it and now she found herself almost in his arms, staring at him with wide eyes, “-say something.”

His intention had been to comfort her, telling her to call it a day, to go home, to get a long bath, maybe a glass of wine when it would help and come back tomorrow not before nine or ten, and then she had slammed her hand against the table surface and had swirled around directly into his arms. Her hands on his upper chest and shoulders, his in a reflex to avoid a collision on her hips, and he must look at her like a deer in the light.

Her eyes were glassy, but she wasn’t drunk. Bel Rowley so he was sure, could drink down a seasoned man under the table when something important depended on it. She had green eyes, with some hazel spots in it, something he had never noticed before. And she wore a perfume with some sort of vanilla in it, something else he had never noticed.

He knew he should retreat from her, but he was transfixed on the spot, eyeing her, waiting for her to move away, a reaction that seemed not to come.

‘ _Old enough to be her father.’_

When he had told her month ago, she shouldn’t work to long, Lix had told him this. Back then he had only said it because he cared, because he knew Bel worked double as hard as the men did, and he didn’t wanted her to burn out too soon. He knew, she was a brilliant producer, a fighter, a woman he could rely on. It had been not his intention to see her in any other form as a good colleague and then Lix had pointed it out and he was angry and flustered at the same time. Clenching his jaw, realizing, that he indeed found Bel attractive. Wasn’t he allowed to find that, as she was it? He was no man who looked around to measure women, but he was a human being and it might had caught his attention once, when she had came to his office to shout at him, when he had made Freddie come to London.

It was no secret to him that Freddie had been with Bel. When he had met the young man in Paris, they had talked about The Hour and Freddie couldn’t praise Bel enough, a clear indication that he was absolutely in love with her. It didn’t stopped him to marry the French girl. Rash decisions made to hide true feelings.

Anyway, Lix had seen his naive interest, before he had known it, and later he was sure, she only had given the comment to anger him and because she had been jealous. Bel was all Lix wasn’t anymore - at least in her eyes. But he had loved Lix, she had been beautiful for him ever since - he still loved her. There had been no necessity for her comment. As it was him, he only had walked away.

He was handsome, always stern but adorable handsome, Bel thought, seeing him swallow hard over the closeness, but not moving away. How old was he? 54? Still good looking.

Now seeing him so close, she tried to imagine a young Randall, back in his days when the civil war had rampaged through Spain, and he had been with Lix. Oh, yes, she now knew why Lix had fallen for him. Behind all this OCD, behind the strict face and the over prominent glasses there was sensitive man, hiding. He smelled like peppermint and after shave, and she realized only then, that with her high heels on, she had the perfect high to kiss him.

They couldn’t say how long they were standing like this, only a few seconds, maybe only a fraction of one, but long enough to sense the other. To feel the warmth, to take in the others scent, to make observations about eye colour and an almost unseen scar at Randall's left eye.

Her hands on his chest, felt like weights, and as soon as he concentrated on her touch, it felt like a fire, burning a hole into him. She made no intention of taking her hands away, no, he felt her fingertips slightly curling into the fabric of his jacket, and he felt his hands doing the same.

“Miss Rowley-” he began, only to feel her lips on his.

She couldn’t say why she did it. The alcohol and the late hours surely made her more braver as she usually was, also she wasn’t drunk.

After Freddie had passed away and Lix had been gone, and they had started these late night meetings, she had found herself looking at him, not like a producer looking at her Head of News but more like woman looking at a man. Bel always had known he fiddled with things, from day one, she had strident complained about it, after the first day, in the ladies room toward Lix.

Now she tried to understand why he did it, what the trigger was in the situation he did it. Touching his tie - why? Nervous maybe, or angry. Rearranging the papers at the blackboard again, after a meeting with the BBC bosses, she could guess all so good what the trigger had been. Stress and the prospect of firing everyone soon.

Looking at his suits, tailor made, sharp and making him nice looking at the same time. One evening she had found herself thinking, that the tie didn’t match a hundred percent, as if it mattered. And how he would look in a jumper - she never had seen him in anything else but a suit.

To cut a long story short, Bel had became fond and very aware of Randall, while their evening meetings, of his warm, deep voice with the slight Glaswegian accent he tried to veil. Not only because they had mutated from work colleagues to some sort of partnership of convenience - the last two people standing, against the others, cursed with the lose of a loved one.

Would she had kissed him when Freddie would have been still alive? Certainly not. Who could tell in the end?

Her hands pressed onto his shoulders, she had leaned in and had captured his lips, nothing more. A short, fleeting kiss.

He hadn’t reacted to it, was overcome by her doing and his lips didn’t move. The kiss was not long enough to make him do anything - kissing her back or shoving her away. On the other side it was long enough to make him gasp, make him stop breathing and his eyes fluttered shut - only half but anyhow.

It made him aware, that he hadn’t kissed a woman for quite a while. That he almost had forgotten how it was to kiss someone. In the past, before he had returned to the Hour he sometimes had imagined how it had been to kiss Lix. It had been years, and he still believed he could remember it, but it was probably only a faint imagination of a taste that never had been, or something extraordinary that was in truth very simple. He had forgotten about it, and still tried to convince himself he hadn’t. How pathetic.

When Bel broke away again, he denied himself to move with her, to reconnect. He was her boss, and she was beautiful. The show came to an end, she was right, in four weeks from now, they would have to look for another job - a kiss would change nothing.

The moment her lips lost contact to his, he realized how he craved the physical contact. Not particular with her, but it had been her, who had reminded him about his shutting off from the others. Of his dislike of being touched, what was only a cry for help, a hope that someone, would some day take the challenge to break through to him. And Bel had taken the challenge, without knowing. Through the day, when they had conferences, when they stood aside the large glass and Hector read the news, she sometimes touched his arm, to turn his attention to something, or had slightly leaned into him. Nothing that could be called too much, and he hadn’t noticed till this moment, when his eyes went open again and they looked at each others all staggered.

“I… I am sorry,” Bel shook herself out of the moment, stepping back, letting go of him. “I shouldn’t have… I am sorry. I better go now. Goodnight.”

His fingertips slipped from her waist, his hands not changing position, when she stepped around him and hurried out of his office. Ten seconds more he stood there, shaking and his breath ragged, not sure what had really happened. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hands flexing and then he stepped back from the spot he had allowed her to kiss him, and then walked around it to get back behind his desk.

He hadn’t seen that coming, not the kiss, more the fact that something in him had shifted. He felt like a bottle of water, that someone had shaken, and he was unable to regain control of the emotions that rolled over him.

One hand touched his lips, then his tie and then again his lips, and in an act of helplessness he started to shove around some papers on his desk.

It ended in a ceremony-like act of rearranging his pens, his papers, again and again and he couldn’t stop till he cut his finger at the corner of a sharp paper. Glancing at the watch on his wrist he noted, he had spent an hour on this, while slumping back into his seat. He spotted Bel’s vodka bottle and the glass, he hadn’t touched in his rummaging around.

In an act of unrest, he grabbed both and walked to her office, to place it for her into her drawer, only to find Bel sitting at her desk, brooding at the typewriter in front of her. She had noticed him, and it was too late to go away again, and when she looked up, her face was filled with worries and concerns. Randall lowered his gaze for a moment, and then rose the bottle and the glass, “You forgot your…,” he felt ridiculous.

He forced himself to step in, toward her desk and placed both onto it, looking at her, waiting, hoping she would say something, but she only nodded, and took the things away to stow them back into the drawer. The worries in her face made her look older, and it hurt him to see her like this. She was still so young and beautiful and she shouldn’t be sad, not about Freddie and most of all not about him. He wanted to tell her it, but he only made a faint smacking sound when he opened his lips, and when he closed them again.

“Goodnight, Miss Rowley,” he had called her Bel before, he only couldn’t remember when, and he scolded himself for forgetting it.

When she had stormed out of his office, her plan was to grab her coat and to go home, but then she had sat down and had went lost in thoughts about Freddie, about the BBC, the disaster they lived in. Then she wanted to take another drink, only to notice that her vodka was still in Randall’s room. She still felt the echo of the touch between them. His hands on her hips, and she could have sworn, when she had backed away, that he had slightly put more pressure into his grip, as if he wanted her to stay. It was probably only her wild imagination.

What would someone like Randall want from her? He was indeed old enough to be her father. The comment hadn’t went by unnoticed, she had heard Lix say it, but had politely ignored it and had soon forgotten about it, till a few weeks ago.

She never had Randall seen to look at a woman, like Hector sometimes did. She had seen him look besotted at Lix, that was all, but that look had faded now and then from time to time, she had noticed he was looking at her, like he usually looked at her, but a tick to long, a heartbeat too much. She had guessed it was because he was worried about her, because she had lost the man she had really loved, but now she was no more sure.

No, there was no chance he was in any way interested in her, and it was idiotic to be interested in him. They both were not sane at the moment, they both had went through too much and the only thing that would make them come together, would be the desperate need to cling on to something, to someone. Only a short affair for one another.

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she jolted up out of her chair, that made a screeching sound then. “I must have been out of my mind.”

Randall stopped, and turned around, “Yes, you probably was,” carefully he stepped back into her office. “Let’s forget about it, it would be sad if it would afflict our work relationship. And we both know, it was not really me who you kissed, but Mister Lyon.”

A moment of silence arose, one could cut with a knife and Randall realized he might had gone too far.

“Was it?” Bel answered then, and Randall’s eyes went wide and he was confused. Walking around her desk, she remembered herself to be more decent, “Yes, that probably was what I did. How pathetic, isn’t it?”

“A lot of things have happened,” Randall began. “We have lost good people, I think it is okay to be a bit pathetic.”

She gave it a short twitch with her mouth, “Are you pathetic then?”

He reached for his tie, feeling that it had lost it’s perfect fit, his fingertips caressing over the material, “More than you can imagine,” he paused, pressing against the knot. Aware that Bel watched him fiddle once more. “Let’s forget about it, we shouldn’t dwell on it.”

Bel watched him a few more seconds fiddle with the tie, and then stepped up to him, gently pushing his hands away, and started to undo the tie. It was almost amusing how he froze under her touch, his eyes asking what she was about to do, “I am just binding your tie, Randall. Wasn’t it that what you wanted to do?”

He kept quiet, only raised his chin slightly to help her. He noticed that she tied it without really looking. Her eyes were locked on him, and it made his heart pace. Again her perfume, crawled into his nose and he tried to distract himself from her with looking outside the window of her office. It didn’t help.

“Do you think about it?” she suddenly ask, and he couldn’t follow. “Right now, do you think about me kissing you?”

Leaning back slightly, Bel stopped in her movements, the tie only half done. He tried desperately to find a good reason why she asked him this. “Why would I do this?”

“Because I am thinking about it right now, and I thought,” she finished the tie and gently tucked down his collar, “I ask you if you might think the same.”

For a moment he considered her drunk, and then he remembered, that an hour had passed, and she would be almost sober again, and then he was aware, that he had indeed thought about it. Unconsciously, and the short flicker to her lips had betrayed him.

“Would you like me to do it again?” what ever between them was, she had ruined it with the first kiss, so she had decided she could go forward, ruin it a bit more or make something out of it.

She had stopped caring about everything a while ago. Randall was a grown man, he could say no, he could tell her off, and leave. He was not a boy, he was not Freddie and maybe that it was what made her brave and made her test him, “I take your silence as a yes.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his voice low, hoarse, trembling. She still was standing in front of him so very close, her hand by his tie.

“It’s hard to say no, that’s why people say mostly yes, except it would give something away. And so you better keep quiet, because you not want to say yes, but most of all, you not want to say no,” Bel elaborated as if they were talking about the last election.

“I am not Freddie,” was the only thing he could say.

She laughed once more, “When I kissed you an hour ago, I honestly haven’t spent one thought about Freddie. After weeks of circling him with my mind, he was gone for that moment. You can believe it or not.”

“Bel…,” he felt the danger, he felt he was about to give in.

“And what did you think about? Lix?” he was not sure, what her aim was. If she wanted to push him, or make him angry, or simply was on a way of self destruction and wanted to pull him down with her. “I would be probably stupid enough, to allow you that.”

He stared at her, seething inside, one more touch and he would go off in flames, there he was certain, “I think you should go home now.”

It’s what he said, but his hands reached out for her hips again, and as soon as Bel felt it, she leaned in. Slowly. Pressing her lips onto his, cupping his lower lip and she could feel the battle inside of him. He wanted to push her away, make her go, spare them the morning after, but he couldn’t, because he wanted it. Longed to touch and the kiss, and then his eyes fell shut and he kissed her back, his hands never leaving her waist.

The kiss became intimate, fast and soon both their tongues touched and they both gasped and moaned into each others mouth, slowly stumbling backwards against the edge of her desk. They wouldn’t stop here.

Bel grabbed the labels of his jacket and tore them down his shoulders, and he let her do it, hearing the faint thud of his jacket on the floor.

They were both desperate for one another, hungry and craving for more. This would never end well, but they didn’t care. Would it make a difference? Not really.

Bel opened up her jacket and threw it away and then her hands fell down to his belt, fumbling it open, and then for whatever reason the last spark of sanity decided to show up in her mind, and she stopped. She was about to seduce her boss. What did she even think?

“I…,” she began to stutter, hands still at the trousers.

Randall looked at her, his eyes dark, desperate. He sensed why she had stopped. “Don’t stop. Please!”

It was all she needed, and so she opened his trousers and his fly, gathered up her skirt as far as possible and sat herself onto the desk. Some papers and pens falling down on the other side. They had stopped kissing each other, only looking, panting. Randall letting her do the “work”, on purpose or because he was afraid to do something wrong, and Bel didn’t mind at all, reaching under his underwear, and he shuddered when she took him in hand, aroused, her legs around his waist pulling him closer.

He watched her, like a young student watched a teacher while an experiment. Watched her pull him close, and making him bend a little, and then she pulled her knickers aside, and then he was by her middle, and she made him push into her.

It felt good. Dirty and good, and they both gasped over the first thrust. Randall took of his glasses, and placed them somewhere onto her desk with a clatter, before bringing his hands onto the table. Her legs were tight around his waist, and he was trembling and overwhelmed.

He looked younger without the glasses, she thought, attractive, and she liked to see his eyes now without a barrier. She could see he wanted her, at least he wanted this. The sex. She hoped he also wanted her. Bel had missed this feeling. Being taken, being filled. The raw emotion of want and need.

Tilting her hip, she made him start a rhythm. Not raw, but also not tender. It was not a position for lovemaking, it was on her desk, and the door was open, and there was a chance, the night guard would catch them.

Quickly she felt her emotions and the warm feeling in her belly rise. She wouldn’t last long, it was all too sweet, to exciting and a while since she had good sex. When her eyes were about to fall shut, Randall brought her back, “Don’t. Look at me!” It was almost a demand and also a plea.

As to underline his wish, he pushed harder into her, deeper, and the intense look of his made her shudder. Under all this layers of compulsion, and the stern face, was a desperate, passionate man. He moved quick in her, every thrust like a hot shower, inflicting desire.

She didn’t know what she thought, of how it would be. Of course she never had thought about how it would be to sleep with him - till ten seconds before her bottom had bumped against the desk. It was not how she had expected it, he knew what he was doing, he read very well in her and saw that she was close, it only made him bend down a little bit closer to her, mouth half open, his greenish eyes burning a hole into her, pushing now with shorter thrusts into her. As timid and restrained he was while work, he was able to show his need for her on his face, that was hungry, for her. He longed for her to come under him.

And then she came, unprepared and he saw it and tried to keep the exact rhythm, seeing her bite her lips, to suppress moans of ecstasy. Waves of pleasure rushing through her, making her lips tremble, while she kept her eyes open, allowing Randall to see her falling apart under him. She gasped and needed to give a soft moan, her fingers digging into his upper arms.

Then, when he felt her orgasm was easing away, he slowed down till he stopped, and Bel figured he hadn’t come himself yet, and not wanted to bother her.

She grabbed his arms, “Don’t stop,” he swallowed, he was afraid somehow. “Keep … keep going,” she pressed her heels into his bottom and so he went on.

He was close, she could tell by the look of his eyes, by the sweat on his forehead and the way his body shook, and then she leaned in, capturing his mouth again. He gasped over it, like she was a healing to an old wound, one hand now cupping her cheek, holding her close. He was clinging onto her and there she knew, it was not her he kissed.

It was nothing he had wanted, but then without a warning, when she had came, and had made him go on, old memories flashed up in his mind. Lix and him in Spain, drunk and lonely pouncing onto each other. And then Bel went for more kissing, and his eyes fell shut and the only face he could see was the one of Lix and he knew it was not right, but he couldn’t stop it. He tried to dissipate the thoughts of her, with kissing Bel deeper and with more greed, touching her face, holding her close, but it didn’t worked out. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and came undone in her arms, and to crown it all, it was not Bel’s name he hissed under his breath, well aware she must have heard it.

With weak legs, and a horrid pain in his heart, he grabbed for his glasses and then stumbled away. His hair was a mess, the curls had come loose, falling into his forehead. All ashamed and confused, angry with himself, he was unable to look for Bel. What had he done? He turned away, dressing himself again, and Bel moved down from the desk, shoving her skirt back into position. Randall grabbed his jacket from the floor and also hers, and gave it to her.

“Bel, I am … sorry,” he stuttered.

“It’s okay,” she slipped into her jacket, feeling awkward and tried to feel angry for him, but she only found herself feeling sorry for him. Feeling sorry for a man, that’s not what she had hoped for.

Randall could see the pity she had for him. “It’s not,” he said, shoving his fingers through his hair, to get it under control again.

He wanted to tell her, that he was better than what she saw in him right now. He hadn’t slept with her because he wanted to see Lix in her, he had slept with her because he wanted to see herself in her. Her beauty, her charm, but he had failed. A miserable old fool. “Bel, I not wanted-”

“Randall, it’s okay,” she shifted slightly, in need to clean herself. “Listen I really have to go for the ladies room, and then I will go home. Let’s forget about it. It’s no problem at all.”

She grabbed her purse from the other side of her desk, eyeing the papers and the pens, that had fallen down and then walked past him, stopping for a moment, “Goodnight Randall.”

What had she expected? That he would fall in love with her, while they shagged each other on her desk in the office? She should be old enough to know better.

They would forget about it. What else there could be? In the next morning she would show up again, and would face him in a professional manner. They would bring this show to an end and in four weeks or less, they would go different ways, and then it was sorted.

It was, what she tried to tell herself, late at night, in bed after a long shower, still tasting him on her tongue, still feeling him inside of her. The truth was, it had hurt hear him saying it. Why was that so? She could have shagged with Hector, and was a 110% sure she wouldn’t have give a single damn, when he would have said the name of his wife. Aside she was so not interested in Hector.

She would forget about Randall, time would heal the wounds and vodka ease the pain.

Randall stayed for another thirty minutes, sorting her papers back onto the desk and placing the pens in the correct order at the side of it.

He never had felt so sorry for himself, as in this moment. Thinking about it, he was sure something was wrong with him. Incapable of being with a woman he had the highest regards for, and calling the name of his ex-girlfriend. She should have slapped him, he thought, he would have deserved it.

Then he went home, taking a shower, and then spent an hour in front of a glass of whiskey, he in the end didn’t drink, thinking about Bel. About the moment she came undone in front of him. A beautiful sight, a beautiful feeling.

The next morning he would go back to work, and resign. There was no more reason to stand up in the morning again, not after that. He owned her respect, and he would go to the BBC telling them to shut down The Hour, because that was what they wanted to do anyway, and God help them if they wouldn’t find a good, high paid position for Bel Rowley. They would tell him, she could have his job, and he would happily approve. Then he would give a call to an old friend in Paris, and take a job there. He was good with running away, why not do it again.

Because some things, simply shouldn’t be.

 

 

 

 


	2. 02_Things we try to save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after. Bel and Randall have not only to deal with the possibility of the shows cancellation, they also have to deal with each other and what has happened between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened, I wrote a second chapter, and there will be a third too. Maybe more, I can't say. How did this happen? I don't know. I couldn't let it be like it was. I thought they deserve more.

The next day, Randall showed up at the office short before nine in the morning. He was dead tired and felt like someone had run him over with a truck. He allowed himself to take an extra sip of coffee into his mug and saved himself the milk.

When he entered the conference room, Bel was already waiting at the desk for him, as they usually did the morning briefing together. For a second he hesitated, meeting her eyes. Then she glanced away, reaching for some papers on the desk.

“Good morning,” he said, clearing his breathy voice.

Bel nodded, “Good morning, Mister Brown. Everybody here? Where is Hector?”

Hector shot around the corner, looking fresh and with a smile on his face, “I am here, sorry, just got myself a coffee.”

Randall and Bel looked at each other in surprise. Hector usually showed up five minutes late and most of all with an impression on his face, that indicated he had one drink too much the day before and less sleep. Today it seemed not so.

So they both briefed everybody about today's schedule and that they hadn’t heard anything about getting shut down soon. They knew it was an unnerving situation for everyone, but as long as everybody would give their best, they assured they would have a chance.

It was a lie, but right now, it was their job to lie to their staff. If they believed it, they couldn’t tell, everyone except Hector didn’t point it out.

“How long?” he asked afterwards, approaching both. “How long till they shut us down?”

“Hector…,” Bel began, but stopped, knowing it made no sense to lie to him.

“Four weeks,” Randall interrupted. “Maybe more, maybe less.”

Hector sighed, nipping from his coffee, “They can’t shut us down, when we give our best.”

“It’s not about giving our best, Mister Madden,” Randall said agitated. The missing hours of sleep had left their marks. “It’s about a dead journalist and the fault in our doing.”

Bel wanted to place a hand on Randall’s forearm to calm him down, but retreated again, “Hector, why do you think, they haven’t sent a replacement for Freddy or Lix? They don’t intend to go on with us.”

“They are all cowards! They should tell us!” Hector answered angrily.

“Since when do you care anyway?” Bel turned around and looked out of the window. She was well aware he had been drinking way too much the last weeks and had been lacking attention in his news speaks.

“Hey!” he held out a finger. “I know, I … Bel I am sorry, I know I was useless the last few weeks, but I decided to do something. I see a counsellor since a week and try to drink less.”

Nor Randall nor Bel said anything to it, so Hector rolled his eyes on them, “Yeah, don’t get too excited! I’ll proof you wrong, and I’ll not let this show die.”

“Nor we want that, Mister Madden,” Randall needed to rub his eyes and earned a concerned look from Hector.

“What’s with you both, do you still do this evening meetings? Gosh, do you guys even sleep?”

“What do you mean?” Bel whirled around to him.

“Well, you both look tired, you look like you have talked all night,” Hector shook his head. “You guys should get some sleep, and stop talking so much. At least once a week.”

He couldn’t see how they both glanced at each other all embarrassed. Then Hector left them behind, and in the silence of the room their discomfort grew.

Bel saw he was tired, he didn’t look like it, his suit was as ever perfect in fit and looking. Clean shaved and she could smell his aftershave, but his greenish eyes betrayed him. They were red and small.

She had noted that he had cleaned up her office, after she had left, sorting her pens and papers. She was sure he had invested a while into doing it, and so he had probably even less sleep as herself in his bones.

Randall stood lost aside her, not knowing what to say or to do, “Bel-”

“-I should get started,” she quickly interrupted, not keen on talking about the happenings of the last night. “I need to make some phone calls.”

“Yes, sure,” Randall whispered, turning away to the desk, his fingertips brushing against the surface. He didn’t felt good, the situation didn’t feel good and he wanted to make it good again, but had no idea of how and if she really wanted to do something about it.

When Bel reached her office, she shut the door, and pressed her head against the door. Eyes shut, she urged some upcoming tears away. No, it was no good to think about it. It had happened, and that it was. Four weeks, just four weeks, she could do that.

The day went by with the usual mix out of routine and people buzzing around, and when evening came Randall sat in his office and glanced at the clock, noticing that it was past the usual time Bel usually showed up with her bottle of vodka. He was no complete foul and knew she wouldn’t show up this night, and probably not another.

It was time, he thought, time to act, to do something about the situation. Then he opened his drawer, took out a sheet of paper and started writing his resignation letter. After half an hour he was done, and shoved the paper in an envelope and sealed it, to place it into the “outgoing” shelf in his office. Sissy would take it tomorrow and send it to the BBC bosses. Within two days, he should be released from his position.

The next thing he wanted to do, was going home, get some necessary sleep, but when he sat down in his car, he found himself driving not to his home address, but to Bel’s. He thought he owned it to her, to tell her about his decision. Right now, with such sleep deprivation, he even had the guts to tell her.

When Bel had came home she had made herself a small dinner and had changed into some more casual - black trousers and a grey sweater. She was just about to make herself some tea when she heard the doorbell. This could never be a good sign.

Looking through the peep hole she was shocked to see Randall in front of it. Without thinking she ripped the door open, “Oh god, what is it?” she was anticipating bad news. “Is it Hector?”

Randall looked at her puzzled, unable to follow her at first, then he guessed, she assumed his presence was because of some kind of emergency.

“No, Mister Madden is fine, I assume,” Randall began. “I am not here because some emergency has occurred.”

Bel relaxed a bit, and then tensed, “Why are you here then?”

Randall wanted to say so much at once, his thoughts were racing and Bel in her nice sweater and the smooth trousers more as distracting, and so the only thing he could say was, “I’m resigning.”

Bel gaped at him, “You do what?” she then called, and they both looked down the corridor in panic someone could have heard her. “Come in!” she motioned him inside, and pushed him slightly toward the living room.

He had never been at Bel’s place, what reason there was? A bit lost he stood in the little hallway, unsure if he should take of his coat. Bel helped him out, “Give me your coat.”

He nodded and carefully took it off and she placed it on a hanger and hung it at the door, Randall never leaving her, afraid to invade her living place. When Bel was finished she turned around, finding him standing there like a schoolboy, but she didn’t allow herself to get distracted by his coyness, “Have you gone completely mad? You can’t resign now!”

“It’s the only thing to do!” he protested and then followed her into her living room after she had passed him with a gesture to follow her.

“No, it’s not! You know when you resign, they going to shut us down in no time!” she was almost furious, pacing up and down in front of him.

“They are going to shut us down anyway, so where is the trouble?” he followed her from left to right and back. His eyes leaving her every few seconds to take in her living room. It was clean and she had nice furniture in warm colours. A few pictures at the wall.

She stopped, pressing her hands against her forehead, “We can safe this show!”

“No we can’t,” he said calm.

Bel huffed and then the conclusion hit her, “No! No, no, no!”

“What?”

“Are you doing this because of... ,” she felt her ears redden, “because of what has happened last night?”

He wanted to protest, but as she was not quite wrong, he had trouble lying to her, “Well…, I… It seemed the only right thing to do. It is obvious you have no interest of working with me anymore.”

“What? How did you came up with that?”

Slowly it dawned on him, that he had made a mistake, “You didn’t showed up when… I took it as a statement.”

“Randall, I didn’t show up, because I am tired, and we both need sleep, and so I didn’t came to your office today, and... ,” there were other reasons too that had made her not come to him. “And yes, I thought it might wouldn’t be very appropriate to come to your office, after… after what has happened. But it doesn’t mean you should resign, Jesus Christ!”

For a minute he only stood there, watching her. Considering the situation and her words, and she let him, because she didn’t know what to say more. In the year she worked with him, she knew when he was convinced, he would do what he wanted to do or what he thought he needed to be done. Then, when the minute was over the silence became too much for her.

“Are you going to stand there all night, saying nothing? Or?”

It made him shrug, and he lowered his gaze for a moment. Nervously he tried to come up with something to say, “I think I should go now. I only came to tell you the news. Thought you deserve it as the producer of the show.”

He was about to turn on his heels, when Bel stopped him, “So you really going to resign?”

“Yes, the letter is already written.”

Bel was about to get het up over the way he said it, as if he not wanted to waste the piece of paper he had used for. As if this was the only reason why he was so stubborn now. Then she stepped back and sat down onto the rest of the sofa, “Well, then, I quit.”

It made Randall swirl around, “Excuse me?”

She crossed her arms in front of her, “You heard right, I quit. You are still my boss, aren’t you? I resign with immediate effect.”

This was not what he had expected, when he had decided to come here, “That is ridiculous.”

“Makes two of us,” Bel said cold, stood up and walked to the kitchen. Now she needed something to drink, and not water.

Randall stood irritated in the room, thinking how to cope with the new situation. He had underestimated Bel. When she wouldn’t show up tomorrow, they would make him stay till the end. The show couldn’t be shut down in two days, someone had to bring the thing to an end. And this would be him. No, that was not the plan. He followed her to the kitchen, finding her filling a glass with Vodka.

“Miss Rowley-”

“Don’t Miss Rowley me!” she downed the glass in one gulp. “I am pretty sure after what has happened, we are beyond that, ain’t we?”

It made him stumble over his own words, and grab his tie, looking down to the counter and not at her. He needed to chase away the thoughts from the day before.

“So you trick me into not resigning?” he finally found a stable expression.

She chuckled, “When you want to call it like this, yes. I don’t let you simply resign because you are afraid of something that is already the past. Maybe Hector is right, maybe we can safe this show. And what has happened between you and me, has happened, end of discussion.”

At the last part, Bel could see Randall brought his eyes on her, with a staggered expression and she knew something was with him and the words she just had said.

He sensed he had lost control over his face, and had betrayed himself to her, and so he quickly looked away.

“What is it?” Bel came around the counter toward him.

“Nothing,” he backed away an inch, not looking at her.

“Randall?” she was suddenly concerned, unsure how to take his soft retreat, feeling something had upset him more as it should and she reconsidered what she had said. “Is it about what I just said?”

Hesitatingly his eyes found hers again, “I should go now.”

She grabbed for his arm, afraid he would run away, “I don’t let you go before you haven’t talked to me.”

“What for?” he looked down at her hand, making no move to remove her hand around his wrist.

“We work together,” was first all she said. However she saw it was not enough for him. “I consider you a … a friend, Randall. And we can save this show.” She saw the muscles of his jaw clench. Her hand still around his wrist, she did let go of it, when she saw his eyes literally pleading her for it. “You think we can’t?”

“It’s not what I think,” he fixed his gaze onto the bottle in the back of the kitchen. Imagining again how whiskey had felt on his tongue. And how the vodka had tasted on Bel’s tongue, when she had kissed him passionately. To get away from the thought he stepped away another inch, “The only thing I can think is,” he closed his eyes for a moment only to tear them open again, with an intense stare at her, “is to walk over to you and to kiss you, and to take you to your bedroom, so I can show you, I am not the man you met yesterday. I am better. And I don’t care about Lix anymore, - but about you.”

Bel shivered, involuntarily imagine him doing it, kissing her, taking her to her bedroom. Her mouth opened to say something, but he stopped her with a raised finger.

“That’s what I am thinking, when you allow me the honesty. Also it’s not what I am doing, because it’s clear to me, that I am not a man for you, and it was very stupid to tell you this,” he bit the inner of his lips, considering his openness a mistake.

Bel stood there, processing what he just had said, and tried to come up with something to say, but Randall didn’t want to hear anything. The only thing he wanted was to leave. He gave her a nod and left the kitchen to take his coat from the hanger in the living room. Bel’s hand grabbed the counter in her back, battling with her if she should go after him or not.

Who did she fool? Herself? Did she really believe, she had stopped thinking about him kissing her the night before, taking her and giving her such pleasant feelings. She couldn’t tell what she wanted from him or from the situation. She only knew, she not wanted to let him go like this.

“Randall!” she hurried after him, he was already at the door, the handle in hand. “Wait! Please, a minute.”

He had pressed the handle already down and felt the urge to go, but his feet didn’t respond to his command to go. In the end, he let go of the door and turned back to her, but refused to come back to the living room.

“Why did you say that? That you are no man for me?”

The consternation was clear to see for her on his face. A nervous tilt, a frown, a correction of the specs on the bridge of his nose. He thought he had misheard something, also as longer as he looked at her, he knew he hadn’t.

What answer was there? He couldn’t tell her that he had been on the edge all day, the he wanted to touch her, take her face into his hands to lean down and to kiss her. That he wanted to make it good again, his mistake, to show her that he cared for her more as just a colleague or a friend - as she had called him. The way this has started - on a whim - late at night in her office, was not a basis for more, not in his world, where a man takes a woman out to dinners and coffee. Where he walks her, and makes some effort with nice talks and little presents.

“Bel,...” he began. “We… I don’t think…,” they had started at the wrong end and now he wasn’t sure how to turn the course into the right way. “There are many reason. And you know them all.”

He was 54, she was 32. He was her boss, and they had already shagged each other in the most disgraceful manner late at night in her office. The last bit, made her ears burn. “So, basically you say, I should date a man my age, and who hasn’t had his tongue in my mouth yet?”

Her boldness made him nervous, and Bel not only knew it, she liked it, and it was probably the only way to make Randall Brown open up. To tease him, and make him remember what had happened between them, because otherwise he would push it away as far as he could, till one day he had convinced himself, that nothing ever had happened.

Randall was no one for a late night quarrel. He was tired and so was she, and he was on the edge and angry and disappointed and the thought of her dating another man, even he had suggested it a minute ago, made him jealous.

Why did it made him jealous? Oh yes, because he was the man, who has had his tongue in her mouth, who had grown accustomed in only minutes to her scent, to her muffled moans and the lusty shadow in her eyes when she had came under him. Because he wanted to do it again. Feel her, touch her, taste her.

He shook himself out of his trance, and turned around, pushing the handle down, “There are things, that shouldn’t be! I am sorry. Good night, Bel.”

Bel had no more chance to stop him or to follow, so fast he was out of the door and out of the house.

With a sigh, she let herself drop down onto the sofa. She was too tired to think about what to do with him and her and what was with them. She would tomorrow. One thing was clear for her already, she would not let him resign and foremost, not let him run away from her.

Some things maybe shouldn’t be, it didn’t mean, they couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Leave a comment I would be pleased to read it! Critics and suggestions are welcome!  
> There will be another chapter at least. Don't know when and where this will go. Will there be a Happy End? Who can tell.  
> Thank you for reading this story, as it is a real side-pairing, but I like to explore it. And Randall is my fav, so!


	3. 03_We can save the show, but not us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can they save the show? Will Randall and Bel have a future? They both have a past, and Bel's will come to light. What will Randall make of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary sounds way too dramatic.. anyway, after researching a bit more about the show I became aware of some facts from S1 of The Hour I didn't know before, as I haven't watched S1. For more thoughts check Notes at the end of it, as I not want to spoil you.  
> It seems this story is now bigger on the inside, and another chapter is planned out and I guess there will be a few more. I wish I hadn't came upon the info, but now... lets write the damn thing!

The next day Randall reached his office at eight in the morning. He had trouble to fall asleep, but when he finally did, he slept till the morning and his body and soul had found revival from the exhausting days before.

His visit to Bel had bothered him long, and aside he found his reaction to her - his confession - foolish, he found himself more torn over the fact that she had threatened him to quit the job. It had been a clever move of her, he had to acknowledge this.

Now sitting at his desk, he had his resignation letter in hand, he had taken out of the shelf again the moment he had entered the office.

There it came to him, that Bel hadn’t exactly told him, she would show up again today, and a horrible scenario built up in his head. What would become of the situation around the show, without her - and what of him?

He was relieved when she strode into his office at eight thirty, the trousers and the sweater replaced by a green costume. She looked nice, but he missed the sight of the sweater somehow. Randall couldn’t oversee the thin, triumphant smile on her lips.

“Tell me if I am wrong,” he then stood up. “I am sure you told me yesterday, that you quit.”

Bel could here his attempt in being smug and provoking, also she saw the relief in his eyes, “Let’s say I had a change of mind, Mister Brown,” she walked up to his desk and reached for the letter, “It seems we both had.”

She hovered the letter over the paper bin, looking at him, and when he only blinked she let the paper drop down. Case closed. For the moment.

“Bel, about yesterday, I-” Randall didn’t come far, when the door went open and Hector peeked his head inside. Not waiting for an invitation he opened the door completely and stepped inside.

“Guys,” he sounded cheerful, and very sober. “I have it!”

Both, Bel and Randall noticed that it was a tick too early for him. Randall couldn’t remember seeing him before nine ever, since he worked here, and now it was short after half past nine and it tickled his OCD more than it should, “Mister Madden, what the hell are you doing here?”

Bel gave his reaction a smirk, very well aware, why Randall was suddenly so vexed. It was not usual for Hector to be here at this time in the morning, not so fresh looking and excited. Something was up.

“I am working here, Mister Brown,” Hector remarked snide, knowing he had interrupted Randall and mostly had irritated both of them with his behaviour. “I got it! I know how we save the show!”

That was even for Bel enough, “Are you drunk, Hector?”

The man gave it a snicker and a gesture with his hand - what had he expected? “Actually, I wish I would be, but I am not. I didn’t touch a drink since two days, and now you two, listen up!”

Bel exchanged a glance with Randall, and he only shrugged and leaned against his desk, and Bel did the same. For a moment Hector was amused over the picture of them, but kept it to himself.

“Do you remember the initiation of the new art gallery last week in Richmond Street, through the alderman Mitchell?”

Randall crossed his arms in front of him, “That’s not the kind of news we make, Mister Madden.”

“I said, listen up!” he smiled brightly.

“I remember it, saw it on the news, actually, big fuss” she gave Randall a sight glance, and a smirk. Some news channel considered it an announcement. “It’s not really open yet, right? It was more some,” she wavered with her hand in the air, “some prestige initiation thing. They said the gallery does not open before September.”

“They just had set up the roof,” Hector went on. “The whole thing is a big extravagant architecture thing. Looks very fancy and it is a big prestige thing, like you say. Mitchell had championed for the project from the beginning. It’s his baby one could say.”

“How does this save us?” Randall asked impatiently.

“Does the name, Thomas Harrow, mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of it,” Bel answered for both of them.

“Me too, till yesterday evening, when I was having dinner over at Spencer’s-”

“-So you did drink?” Randall interrupted.

“I had dinner with my wife, Mister Brown,” Hector answered annoyed. “And I had soda to the fish I ate, when you want to know it precisely. Mister Harrow asked me for a talk afterwards and now brace yourself, Harrow was working for the construction and architecture company that is responsible for the construction of the roof for the gallery, that is already half finished. He says, there are some serious miscalculations, that _can_ affect the stability of the roof.”

“Wait a minute!” Bel stopped him. “Can?”

“He said, it will not crash immediately or something, but there is a huge chance that time and wind and whatever will make it crash one day. Can be years, but he says there are careless miscalculations and when he pointed it out, he got fired and he told me, they haven’t changed anything. They just kept going, as the gallery has to open in September, because there are some very important exhibitions waiting - what means money, money, money.”

“Are you telling me, they are building a gallery with a rotten roof, that can collapse anytime? And that alderman Mitchell and some of the construction firm know about this, and push the construction forward without doing something against it?” Randall summarized the story.

Hector smirked. It was not often, that he made Randall Brown speak in appreciation about him, “Yes. This thing is huge. There is money involved and the aldermen. This is a big thing, when this comes to light, there will be a scandal. They have to rebuild everything, maybe tear it down again. Money wasted. And Mister Mitchell will not only lose money, he will probably lose his job.”

Bel stepped toward Hector, standing between Randall and him, thinking hectically over the story and was now convinced that this really could save the show, “It’s a great story, it really could be the story, but-”

“-we need proof,” Randall ended the sentence for her.

“Harrow wants to talk,” Hector rubbed his hands together. “And he says he has copies of the construction plans, correspondence and everything we need.”

“What does he want for it?” Randall was wary.

“Protection. He is afraid, when they find out, he has evidence against them, they are going after him.”

“This is brilliant!” Bel burst out. “Randall, this could it be!”

He liked seeing her all happy, and she was right. This could be the story that would make the past forgotten. Not for them, but for the studio. “First we need to sort out the papers. We need someone who can confirm they made miscalculations. Get Harrow to the studio, make him talk and then we bring him out of town. We hide him, till everything is over the air.”

“So,” Hector was sceptical. “We going to do this? Save The Hour? Mister Brown?”

Randall looked at Bel, and the began to nod, turning back to Hector, “That’s what we’re going to do. Good job, Mister Madden. Very good job.”

“Thanks,” he then turned to Bel, smirking. “How about a drink, now?”

For sure he was joking, “Oh you! Let me give you a kiss instead!” Bel gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, happy over the new development and Hector unconsciously got hold of her hips. After all those weeks, some good news at last. Hector lowered his face, blushing over the kiss. For a second they both remembered something, they shouldn’t and Bel backed away with a mimicked sorry. Hector was clearly touched and Randall was the witness of something, he knew he better had not seen, as a thought came to him, that stung between his shoulder blades. They didn’t see it, as he turned around sorting some papers.

Hector smiled coy, “Don’t … don’t do this too often, I could get used to it.” It had been a year, also he still remembered her kissing him, back in her apartment and he still remembered when he had told her he would love her. Looking back at it, he was glad she had declined his feelings, as he was now back with his wife. Happily. “Also I am very married, Bel.”

They never had talked about it again, him telling her he would love her, her telling him, she preferred a carrier and not a marriage. Them chasing after one another like teenagers, stealing kisses from each other in an old villa.

Bel later fell for Freddy and he came back to terms with his wife, obviously now being strict with her. Closing the cases on his fleeting affairs. It had hurt of course, when she had found out about his lifestyle, nevertheless she had closed the file on Hector’s and her affair long ago too. So she slapped him softly against the arm for it, “Bring Harrow in!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he winked and then left.

“That’s good news, Randall!” she turned back to him, finding him still shoving around some stuff on his desk.

“Yes,” he turned toward her. He gave her a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “One good news at least.”

Bel saw he was hurt, maybe because she had given Hector a kiss. Randall was a clever man, he probably had guessed since a long while that she had once an affair with Hector, but never said something as it was none of his business. Something that had changed somehow over the last few days, and now Bel was not sure how to think of it. It was actually still none of his business, as it was none of her business, that he had been with Lix.

“You wanted to say something, before Hector came in,” she said, hoping he would grab the offer, but he only shook his head. The spirit was gone and she knew better as to push him.

“We talk about it later,” he checked his tie in the mirror and then walked past her toward the conference room. Then something came over him, a strike of self destruction and he returned to his office. Closing the door under Bel’s questioning looks. “So you and… Mister Madden.”

Bel inhaled sharply, her eyes becoming little slits. When his intention was to maker her angry in short time, Randall had succeeded in the most effective manner. She walked up to him, her hands akimbo, and she could detect fear in his eyes. Good, she thought. “Yes?”

He held her gaze, also felt he had made a mistake, and would soon pay for it. Now the path was laid, Randall was unable to back away, “Interesting.”

Bel took great care of not hitting his glasses, but great care of hitting him with the right amount of force that he knew she was angry over him. Her hand slapped over his cheek and it was to her, as if he almost had awaited it, as the only thing what he did was, was keeping his posture. There was no surprise or shock in his eyes. Randall knew he deserved it. “Me making such a comment, would probably make me get fired.”

She left him then, not even banging the door behind her as he had guessed or hoped for, just let him stand there, his cheek slightly red and his conscious filled with guilt. Randall had walked into a trap built out of the society rules he hated so much.

They could save The Hour, but could they save that what they had? It was impossible to tell for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the infos I found was that Bel had an affair with Hector and he even confessed his love to her but she wanted a career and not a marriage. As I didn't know that in Chapter 1, it might reads strange when being re-read.  
> Anyway, this info brings of course more drama into the whole story and I let end this chapter on it. Also I pushed forward the side story of rescuing the Hour, and as I watched recently "The Insider" I came up with this plot. I hope it doesn't bore you out too much, but I think I should write a bit about saving the show as it affects them all and also the relationship between Bel and Randall. Next chapter will be way more Bel/Randall. Hector moves now a bit more into the centre of everything, as he was involved with Bel.  
> Also huge thank you to janescoot59 on tumblr, for corresponding and exchanging thoughts with me about the 50s and having relationships in this time. It was all not so easy as today and social status and everything was important and I try to bring this more out (mostly in the next chapter) to stay true to the time. Aside I probably will take liberties, because I think a relationship with such age gap was probably very rare in the 50s and doomed.


	4. 04_Not a coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Bel and Randall sort things out? Long chapter about saving the Hour, mostly concentrated on Bel and Randall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I had written this chapter already with the last one, then discovered about the affair of Bel and Hector I rewrote Chapter 3 and this and now this is a monster and I thought, lets post it. And this chapter has an M-rating!

In the afternoon, short before the day was done, Randall stood in Bel’s holding up a brown bag, “May I come in?”

They hadn’t spoken since the morning. Workday had kept them busy and separated them from another. She was still angry with him, but knew she might had overreacted in slapping him.

“Sure,” Bel placed some papers aside and eyed the brown bag. “What’s that? New story?”

“No,” Randall closed the door behind him, and unpacked the item that was in the bag. A bottle of vodka with a red bow knot. “It’s an ask for forgiveness.”

Randall looked rather lost with the bottle in hand, and Bel couldn’t held back a snort, “Honestly?” she stood up and came around the desk. “This is you telling me you are sorry?”

He felt visibly uncomfortable, “Yes.”

Bel smirked once again and then took the bottle from him, “I thought you were one for flowers.”

“I am, I think, but I considered showing up with flowers would have let to complications, I wanted to avoid,” Randall watched her place the bottle into the drawer. “It’s quite amusing, no one asked me why I had a bottle with a ribbon with me. Flowers would have made the first page. I am sorry, Bel. My reaction was unforgiving.”

“My reaction was unforgiving,” she leaned against her desk. “I might have overreacted.”

“Then we maybe can call it even then,” Randall suggested. “Or you can buy me flowers.”

Not only his smiles were rare, his fine humour, was even rarer, and she was very fond of both of it. After she didn’t say anything, Randall only nodded and wanted to go.

“It was only a short affair,” Bel began. “I don’t know what had gotten into us. He even had told me he loved me, but I told him I take my career, instead of a marriage. Aside I never think he would have went through a divorce.”

“You don’t have to tell me this, Bel.”

“I want to tell you,” she insisted. “I didn’t know he had done something like this before. Having women here and there. His wife told me actually. In the end, we let go of each other.”

For a moment she didn’t know what to say more, and Randall didn’t know how to react and then Bel simply went on, because somehow he deserved to know.

“You must think something about me now, I guess. Hector, Freddy, you.”

“I wouldn’t allow myself such judgement,” he couldn’t deny it hurt him, surely not more as he had hurt Bel, when having Lix in mind while sleeping with her, so he pushed it away. “Things can happen. I might look like as if I don’t, but I know. I know how it works. There is maybe a party, some alcohol, one thing leads to another, and so on. I don’t judge you or Mister Madden, or anyone else.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Bel answered quickly. “With you, I wasn’t drunk with you.”

“Well,...”

“You think it was fun, right? That it meant nothing for me. Seducing the head of news, as if I would do such thing as my hobby,” she was aware, that she was talking in anger again and tried to calm herself. “I don’t okay. I liked Hector. I loved Freddy and… I care for you. I don’t have a list I try to work through, in case you think that.”

The only thing that came to his mind was, “I don’t have one either.”

Bel huffed, and smiled exhausted over the whole damn thing, “Oh whatever, I wanted you to know. I didn’t do it for... ,” she stopped herself. Hector had not broken her heart but had left marks in it. Freddy was another calibre, she really had loved him, still did in a corner of her heart and knowing he loved her too, made his absence not easier. And now Randall. How could she tell him, that she wanted to find out more about him, about them and wanted to find a way to work through her confused emotions, to get a clearer picture of what she wanted from him.

However, with every day that passed by without them talking about, the chance for a solution became smaller and smaller and him coming over to her home, but not elaborating further made her feel as they were about to miss the chance. On the other hand she thought she was to forcefully, wanted to much all at once and would probably scar him away. “Anyway, thanks for the bottle. And sorry for the slap.”

When she had left her office, he stayed there left behind, and he felt his heart ache. Why was he so useless with women? Why did he always run away? He sighed and decided to go home. Bel wouldn’t come to his office tonight.

Three days passed and then finally Hector presented three boxes of construction plans, of files, pictures and hundreds of notes he had gotten from Harrow.

“The thing is,” he scratched the back of his neck. “They are not sorted. We have to go through it, bring some order into it, and best in the next 24 hours. Then we have the independent advisor over, and after that we are going to make the interview.”

Bel took a look inside of one of the boxes. “Are you kidding me? That’s pure chaos! How shall we do this?”

“We work together,” Randall eyed them with his stern mien. “When we work through the night, all together, we can do it.”

“Shit,” Bel brushed over her forehead. “We are no architects, it will be hell!”

Randall smirked, “Of course it will. That’s why we love our jobs, ain’t we?”

It made even Hector smile, “My place. Marnie is not home for the next two days. Over at her sister. Yeah?”

“I bring the vodka,” Bel clasped her hands together, and was about to go to her office, to gather some stuff she needed for later.

“Hey, but I don’t drink anymore!” Hector called behind her, aside him Randall, who didn’t know what to do.

“I never said I share with you,” Bel winked and pointed out to him.

Hector chuckled, “What a woman,” and then looked at Randall, who only stared at him from behind his specs. “I mean…”

“I know what you meant, Mister Madden,” Randall checked his glasses and then decided to better go to his own office, leaving Hector puzzled behind.

#

They met up at Hector’s place one after another, everyone with a box in hand. Over some finger foot and soda they tried to sort through the papers and bit by bit they could lay out a timeline of what had happened, who had said what and who was paid by whom. Nevertheless it took hours and when it was long past midnight Hector fell asleep on the couch with some files in his arm, while Bel had the feeling her optic nerve projected stars onto everything she looked at.

“Damn,” she murmured and pushed some photographs aside, she had surrounded herself with, while sitting aside the couch on the floor. “I am glad we are almost done, this is killing me.”

Randall sat in the armchair, and was about to yawn the 17th time in the last hour. He had a slight headache and dark rims under his eyes, “We should follow Mister Madden’s example.”

Picking herself up from the floor, Bel only nodded and gestured she would go to the kitchen to get something to drink. She had left the vodka behind, as it wouldn’t be very productive and she not wanted to temp Hector into a drink.

In the kitchen she grabbed for a glass and held it under the tap. She was tired, but it was nothing she hadn’t experienced before. Long night shifts, working hard for a good story. It was worth the pain. Her mind was a daze, exhausted, and she didn’t register that the water was running over and down her hands, into the sink. Also the feeling was pleasant, a bit of cool, but it needed Randall to bring her back.

“Bel?” he stood by the door, seeing she was absent minded, and had waited another ten seconds before calling out her name.

She shrugged herself out of the thoughts, her eyes then looking down at the glass and the running water. Only then, she closed the tap, spilled away some of the water and then drank from it, drops running down her forearm. She turned around, seeing Randall still by the door, taking of his glasses to rub his eyes. He was clearly tired, and she already could see a fine shade on his face.

In this moment, she had no control over her thoughts and thought, that he looked so beautiful wasted with the slight stubble, the black rims under his eyes, his hair no more so fine and elegant slicked back as in the morning. It was now a bit ruffled, and she could also see his forearms. His jacket had came down an hour after they had started and he had proceeded reading files with his vest on and at some point - she couldn’t remember when - he had rolled up his sleeves, one button open at his collar and the tie lose. A sight she hadn’t seen since she had met him. There was still some class in his appearance.

She stared, and she was well aware of it, so she turned around and grabbed for another glass, “Water?”

Randall nodded, then came closer, touching his loose tie without making an effort to adjust his appearance, “Yes, thank you,” he walked around the counter, and leaned by the fridge, watching her filling up another glass with water.

Her hair had been open, and after strands of hair had fallen into her eyes, she had taken a hair clip to make a bun. Nothing graceful, just a quick thing, some strands of hair still hanging loose. He had never seen it on her before, like he had never seen Hector snoring softly on the sofa, shirt half open or how they have never seen him like he looked at this moment.

It was a special occasion, and that’s why he probably didn’t care about his looks. They were three, the last three who tried to do something against the closing of The Hour. They were on a good way, but it used hard work and after a while, looks and standards didn’t matter anymore. In the last few weeks the situation had welded them together. A community of fate. Like three students they now shared Hector’s living place, papers laying around and the air was sticky. Only the alcohol was missing and the furniture was more classy.

When she held the glass out to him, he took it from her, his fingers brushing against hers without intention, still he looked flustered, “Thank you.”

Only now he remembered, he hadn’t drank a lot the last few hours and emptied the glass, and then brushed away some drops at the corner of his mouth, before placing the glass back, “You look tired, you should lay down.”

“And what will you do?” there was only one guest room, and Hector slept on the couch. Either Randall made him move or he had to take the armchair. Or she let him take the bed.

Her suggestion made him smile for a moment. They were both so tired, he knew what that made with someone. Saying and suggesting things, that required an explanation, but as he was in the same state, he fully understood. “I’ll drive home.”

“The hell you do!” Bel answered immediately, earning a surprised expression. “You are dead tired, I don’t let you drive anywhere. Not want to get the news in the morning, that my head of news has ended up in the roadside ditch,” she shook her head in disapproval.

Why must men always be like this, why must society always be like this? If anybody except them knew they shared the rooms over night - a woman and two men - there would be horrible rumours. Gladly Hector had no noisy neighbours, and they had coped with a lot, as he had not an innocent past. Also no one knew Randall or Bel, their faces were not that prominent in the media as Hector’s.

“In case you suggest I take the bedroom, and let you sleep in the armchair,” Randall began. “The hell I do.”

Bel smirked. And so did he.

“I am a grown girl, Randall. I’ll make Hector move from the couch,” she placed her glass away, half full. “I know men think I can’t, but I absolutely can take care of myself.”

“I never doubted that,” one hand stroke through his hair, trying to tame some of his curls. “I see that everyday.”

She frowned, watching him for a moment, “What do you mean?”

“You are a brilliant producer. A female one, and I can imagine what battles you have to fight in this position,” he explained. Randall was so tired, but looking at her, gave his tiredness another drift.

He had thought about her in the last couple of days. Not that he wanted too, but he never could distract him enough to not think of her. Bel was smart, brilliant and very beautiful. Than he remembered she was young and he was old and they never could be. Standards of society.

“Thank you,” it was all she could say at the moment.

He acknowledged it with a smile. She liked when he smiled. As it was such a rare thing, she found herself cheering over each of those moments, collecting them for later remembrance. It had stung in her heart, when he had left her place, after confessing his interest in her. Bel knew he was torn between his wants and needs and the rules of society and his caring for her. Considering her to be a match, asking her to go to dinner with her, could mean they would be looked at in disgust. He was too old, she was too young and they both existed in the wrong social class, for even thinking about getting something like _this_ started. They could do it of course, who would stop them? They would probably lose their jobs, and people would look at them like lepers. There would be daily harassment. He being her dad, or her sugar daddy or whatever.

Aside all this, she didn’t even knew what she wanted from him. A serious relationship? Could this work out?

God sake, she thought. Why was everything so complicated? For a second she wished, she never had kissed him in his office, only to ban the thought because she was glad she had done it. She had coped with a lot more trouble than an unhappy love affair, she could deal with it, with him. The only question was, what Randall thought about all that?

Looking up again, Bel saw Randall still standing by the fridge, watching her. She had spent at least two minutes thinking about all this and had forgotten that he was there, reading in her like a book. She was sure he could do that, read her like a book. He was a good journalist, he didn’t look like it, but she was sure he was good with people. Freud and psychoanalysis, he had hidden talents, and reading in people was one of them.

He swallowed and his chest rose under deep breathes he did. The problem was, he not wanted to go home, he wanted to spent the night with her. Not in bed, but in the kitchen, listening to her words, or only to her breathing, watching her do ordinary things, like stirring her tea, while he sat across from her, all besotted. Yes, that was all he wanted in the first place, also he couldn’t lie to himself, he wanted to do other things with her too. When they had found each other in her office, a veil had lifted, a curtain had moved to the side and had revealed something of each other to them. He had been able to catch a look, and once have crossed that barrier, Randall felt he needed to see more of it.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, and made a small step forward, one hand in his trouser pocket.

“I think you know,” Bel’s hand landed on the counter in front of her, her side turned to Randall, while she looked at him. “You bloody well know.” 

He couldn’t tell where he had the guts from, to step aside her, only a few inches between them, his eyes flickering over her face, over her lips. His heart beat hard against his chest, and he felt his arms raise, embrace her, and kiss her, but then he knew it was only his imagination that went wild, “We should better stop thinking about it, Bel.”

“Why?” she wanted to hear his version, she wouldn’t let him go without having heard it.

“I am no respectable match for you,” he said quietly, now afraid he would wake up Hector.

“Who says that? You or…,” she joined his tone, her eyes travelling over his features, down his throat to the loose tie.

“You can’t really want that!”

“So you think it’s just an itch, like a flimsy idea of mine. The naive little girl I am?” she spat, still her voice was low. “I told you already, that-”

“-The problem with you is, Bel, that you are not a naive little girl. The problem is, that you know exactly what you want, but I don’t think you have thought that through.”

“And you have? For both of us, I guess?” He kept quiet. Indeed he had thought it through - for them both. “You are not making decisions for me, Randall! If you not want to do this, fine by me. Leave it. But then stop looking at me like this, all…”

“All what?”

“You know that very well too, so stop playing your games!” she wanted to move away from her, but he grabbed for her hand.

“All in love with you?”

“Are you? In love? Can you tell this, after... ,” why did she want him so badly and still tried to push him away, “after a fling in the office?”

“You never were a fling to me!” his grip was soft but demanding, pulling her gently closer. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never wanted it, never will. It was me, telling you that I want you, that I want to proof you, I am not a … Mister Madden, picking up the most beautiful girl in the bar, and take her as my … my mistress. It would be mostly inappropriate. Nothing I am interested! I care for you. Do I love you? That’s a question, that will be answered later or never. The thing is, Bel, I really could be your father, I am an old man, past my prime. And people will think exactly this, they not will see us as we are, they will see us as they want it. Having dinner with me over at Spencer’s, would be the most disgraceful thing to you by the standards of society, and I care for you too much, to let this happen. That’s why I made the decision for both of us.”

She never had seen him like this, all in turmoil, over her, over his feelings. All so caring for her. Was that the real Randall Brown? Bel gave him high regards for opening up to her like this, to phrase his worries and they were valid. Also in the end it was not his right to make the decision for her, and somehow after what had happened, she believed he had not the right to make his own decision without her. Not when they still worked so close together, not when he obviously had feelings for her - of whatever kind. It was not his right, he should allow her to tell him her opinions and should give her the chance to convince him, instead he was about to run away once more.

It made her angry and so she turned away from him, taking her hand out of his, “You say I am not naive and still you treat me like one of those girls! You think I fell in … I fell in love with the Head of News? After shagging him in the office?”

“That’s not fair,” he tried to interrupt, but she didn’t let him.

“It’s not fair to _not_ ask me about my opinions, it’s not fair, not to talk to me about it,” she grabbed the counter hard with her fingers, panting with rage, he couldn’t see but hear. “Instead you come to my home, confess that you want to kiss me, and instead of staying to your words, you run away.”

“Bel!” he almost yelped out loud.

Bel felt misused by him. He could have let go of her without coming to her and telling her about his feelings, and they would have probably worked it out, by ignoring everything, but so, everything was different. From there on she knew, he had feelings, he wanted something from her, and their little digression had affected him as much as it had affected her. And that’s why she couldn’t simply go on as if nothing had happened, because when she looked at him, she knew there was a connection.

“You are about to run away, aren’t you?” she then whispered. “You are a coward, Randall.”

It had been a while, since someone had called him a coward, and it stung. It even stung more as it was Bel who titled him it. She was not wrong, and that was the reason why it stung in the first place. Everything she had said, was right, he had tried to overrule her, ignore her opinions, because he wanted to do the right thing and obviously was doing the wrong thing. Instead of going, he found himself looking at her back, how her chest softly rose and fell. He found himself listening into the silence of the apartment. Hector was still snoring and deep asleep.

Bel hadn’t turned around, as she sensed he was still there, she couldn’t find the courage to face him. Hoping he would simply leave to spare them the eye to eye confrontation, the awkward situation - not that it wasn’t already awkward enough. A minute passed and she became more nervous. To stubborn to turn around, she huffed loudly, “Randall, this is actually the moment _you should_ go and leave us our dignity.”

She then felt his body heat behind her, as he stepped up to her, a touch by her neck. One of his fingers trailing along the hem of her jacket, over her blouse. First she tensed under the touch, unsure what he was doing and why he was doing it, “What are you doing?”

His finger got joined by another, his other hand landing on her waist, gently squeezing, “Proofing to you that I am not a coward.”

She felt his hot breath collide with her neck when his lips came down onto her neck, and pressed a gentle kiss there.

Bel shuddered, her head slightly dropping forward, and soon she relaxed again. The first kiss followed a second, his fingers carefully massaging her shoulders, while his lips placed little trails up her neck, sending goosebumps and chills down her spine.

He had wanted to go, run away again, and then he realized, he wanted her more than to run away, and he had made a mistake in judging the situation without her. It didn’t mean they had a chance. Not at all. But they were in a kitchen, nobody would see them, nobody to judge them and he still had the promise in his head he had given to her, that he wanted to proof to her who he really was.

The reality was, that he adored her and that he couldn’t do anything against it and only something for it, and so he had allowed himself to kiss her skin. Take in her scent and feel her relax against him. His fingertips crawled up into her hair at the back of her neck, making her hum, while his lips and his tongue kissed her porcelain skin.

“Randall…,” heat ran through her body and an overwhelming feeling of desperate need. How had this happened? Had she really fallen for him so much?

Turning in his arms, she pressed herself against him, her arms around his neck, searching his lips without looking at him, afraid he would get scared or she would. Muffled sounds, little gasps and one hand of his at her cheek, stroking her skin, the other at the small of her back, they kissed each other. A passionate exploring with their tongues, wanting but not hurried. A sauntering.

The kiss felt so different to the ones they had shared in the office. She felt he was with her, and nobody else, and it made her want him so much more.

“Take me to the bedroom,” was all she could whisper when the air had run out in their lungs.

It was a temptation, “No.” They both knew he wanted it, wanted to show her his affection, explore her, maker her come undone once again, under his kisses and touches. They were at the wrong place at the right time and Bel knew Hector was a threat and it was an idiotic idea but she had needed to tell him.

“I…,” he silenced her with a kiss, then he made her turn around. He might couldn’t take her to bed, but he could show her what he would do to her, when he would get the chance. Nibbling her neck, his hands reached for her skirt and began to ruck it up with his fingertips. Bel let him proceed, all warm inside, all intently - anticipating what he wanted to do.

When the skirt was up all the way, his fingers found the way into her tights, into her knickers, and Bel gasped when she felt his fingertips brush over her pubic moon moving down. He had brought one hand around her chest, through under her arm, holding her face, kissing the bit between her shoulder and her neck, while he slowly searched for the one sensitive spot of hers.

With his middle finger, he found the little nub, brushing over it, pushing between her folds all wet and slick.

One hand gripped at his neck, the other to the cupboard aside from them, when she felt him there, a moan escaping her. Then his finger returned to the little nub and began to stroke her, gently, slowly with soft pressure and immediately a pleasant and burning feeling started to spread through her body. Quickly she found herself panting and gasping, also biting her lips, so she wouldn’t wake Hector, her legs shaky, but Randall had her.

“Randall,” she whispered his name, feeling her climax slowly approach her, and she wished he would go faster and harder, but he had no intentions, kept his pace. Only one finger brushing over the spot over and over again, making her tremble and gasp, sensing she was about to come.

Bringing his finger between her heated middle, he felt his heart race in his chest and his own arousal grow. Feeling her tremble against him, hearing her moan and gasp, it made things to him he couldn’t put into words. Such feeling, such fire inside of him, it hadn’t happened for a long, long time and he wanted the moment last as long as possible. Delaying his movements, listening to muffled words and feeling her body move against his.

He liked it, liked making her squirm, liked the thought it was him, who would make her come any second. Liked she let him do it, give him the control, something he longed so much in the rest of his life.

A high gasp escaped her and he knew she would come now, “Bel.”

Heat and emotion released inside of her, made her quiver and as she tried to keep silent the sensation was twice as much. Waves of pleasure rampaged through her, her hand gripping hard at Randall’s neck and he tightened his embrace while she rode out her orgasm, his finger still pressing against her and only when she cringed in his arms, he slowly let go. Holding her, keeping her balance, till her breathing became slow again and then he tugged down her skirt and then he turned her in his arms, making her look at him, all red in her face, flustered and dizziness in her eyes.

“I am not a coward, Bel,” he shoved some strands of hair behind her ear. “But we both know, this will not turn out the way we want it to turn out.” He wanted to kiss her again, but was suddenly all too shy, so she took it in hand and kissed him, his face between her hands. And he answered each of her kisses, unable to move, unable to go away. If she wanted to spent the rest of her life in this kitchen kissing him, it would be fine for him.

“Tell me how you would like to have it turned out?” Bel then whispered, her hands shoving over his arms, spanning her fingers around his forearms. “Even when you believe it never will be like it.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner, at Spencer’s or Mancini’s,” his fingers spanned around her wrists, holding her close, lingering by her lips, afraid she would move away. “We talk about you. And we talk about me, and we talk about you _and_ me. And when we are in the mood I walk you home and there I will undress you. I will kiss every inch of your body. Taste you and make love to you and the next day, then when you still want to be with me, we will do the same again and again.”

She was about to kiss him, when, “Well, hear, hear,” Hector. “Two o’clock at night, and nothing I have expected. I think, this needs some context.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hector, Hector!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As you can see I slowly crack Randall open and let lose his passionate side, something we couldn't see in the Hour. Well it is my interpretation of him. The man had a wild affair with Lix, don't tell me he doesn't know how to...;).  
> There will be probably two more chapters, maybe three. I have a end in mind already. Can't tell much about it of course, but I think you guys will like it!  
> Also thanks to janescoot59 and qiyc623 with whom I talked about a) the 50s and the society thing I address here. And b) gave me some nice thoughts about Randall wanting to do the right thing but is doing then the wrong thing.


	5. 05_Lets get in trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector has caught Bel and Randall, how will he react? What is with the show?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit I am not very happy with this chapter and name it a "filler" as it brings simply the plot forward about the rescue of the show. I had written way more, but split it in two as it would have been too long, and I am still brooding over the dramatic peak between Randall and Bel. I thought about leaving it a bit, and write more for it later, but as I am busy with the next chapter already, I know I will not find many more inspiration.

“Hector!” Bel jumped and they both separated from each other. “How long…”

They both looked at each other, searching for a strategy at the other, and then glanced unsteady over to Hector, who stood in the doorframe.

Hector eyed them, and was aware he had caught them in a situation not even he wanted to get caught. “Probably not long enough,” he rubbed his chin. “But long enough, to know that this is probably the most romantic thing this kitchen has ever heard.”

Bel and Randall exchanged looks, unsure how to take Hector’s comment.

“Mister Madden-”

“-Whatever you are about to say, Mister Brown, just keep it to yourself till the morning or whenever," Hector rubbed his chin. "I only wanted to tell you, Bel, that you can have the guest room, there should be a pyjama and you Mister Brown, that the sofa is free as I am heading into my own bed. Also, it seems the sofa is no more needed," he let his tired eyes roam over the two of them and then chuckled. "Enjoy yourself." And then wandered off into bed.

Bel and Randall turned to each other, a little shocked as Hector had interrupted them. Bel was the first who came out of her shock and laughed, holding her hand over her mouth, and needed to laugh even more as Randall seemed not very amused.

“I am happy you are having fun with this,” he said stern, but his eyes told another story. They beamed at her, he was taken by her beautiful smile.

“Oh, come on,” she grabbed his hand. “It’s Hector! The man has more secrets, than we will ever have,” she then tugged him with her from behind the counter.

“What are you doing?” Randall stopped in the middle of the kitchen, looking down at her hand.

“Going to bed,” she frowned, and sensed immediately that he would try to object. “No, you are not telling me you wanted to take the sofa after… after this, do you?”

“Bel, we…,” he had forgotten her straight forwardness. “We shouldn’t.” He was scared. He was scared to never be able again, to let go of her.

“It’s two in the morning, I have no intention of…,” she gave him a soft smile, entangling one finger with one of his. “We need sleep, and I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, so please.”

“Do you always get what you want?” his finger stroke over hers.

“When I am honest,” she glanced down, for a moment lost in thought. “Not really.”

Randall placed a finger under her chin, making her look at him, “I’m sorry, that was a thoughtless thing to say. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t,” she grabbed his hand and walked with him to the bedroom and he followed her because he couldn’t deny her this request. Randall watched her lead the way and knew he would never be able again to refuse her something. Standing in front of the bed for a moment, she started to undress herself slowly, and he felt his body tremble and then he excused himself to the bathroom, so she had time and space to change into her night dress.

What a prudish thing to do, he thought, after all what had happened between them, also they hadn’t seen each other naked and somehow he felt it was not the moment for it. He got thaught to be considered and a gentleman.

When ten minutes had passed he returned, took of his vest and the shirt, and stayed in his undershirt and his trousers, and sat himself down across from Bel, who had crawled under the blanket.

“You must think something of me now, hm?”

He felt the bed move, when she came over and pressed against his back, wrapping one arm around him, placing her hand onto his heart, and he captured her hand with his, “Everything has its time.”

He smiled thankfully at her and then watched her laying back again. Then he turned of the light and laid aside her, grabbing one of her hand and soon they both fell face to face asleep.

#

In the morning Bel woke up, finding Randall putting on his vest again, and binding his tie, when he saw she woke up, he smiled at her, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock,” he checked his watch. “I am going home to change and then into the office. Someone should be there. It is enough when you and Mister Madden come in till ten, and then we finish with the papers.”

Bel slowly crawled out of the bed, not more than five hours sleep in her bones, gave her a horrible feeling, “Good. I’ll take care we will be there on time.”

“Ah!” it was Hector. “As I see, you two had a good night!” the slight mocking sound was not to overhear.

“Oh, Hector!” Bel threw him a look, reaching for her clothes aside the door. “Since you stopped drinking, you are a bit exhausting.”

Randall felt Hector’s eyes on him, but decided not to respond to it, “I’ll be heading to the office. I’ll expect you there till ten.”

“So, you are leaving her with me alone?” Hector asked, pursing his lips, ignoring Bel’s angry look.

Only then Randall found the thought unpleasant, and frowned first at Hector and then gave Bel a shy glance. He was visibly uncomfortable and considered to stay. Nervously he touched his tie.

“Man, I am not going to touch her,” Hector rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit.”

Bel’s hand landed onto the door, pushing it close, “Sorry, Hector, there is a certain draft! See you in five,” and the door closed in front of Hector’s nose with a thud. “Randall.”

“Bel.”

“We need to talk, right? And I don’t mean we need to talk about Hector.”

“Yes,” Randall exhaled. Whatever had happened over night, he felt he had retreated from her and it was nothing he wanted. He wanted to kiss her but was unable to move forward, to take her in his arms and do it. Alone the thought, that Hector was strolling around in front of this door, unnerved him so much, that he needed to knead his fingers. “I am sorry.”

He leaned in a bit, and it turned to be an awkward dance between them. Till he pressed a chaste kiss onto the corner of her mouth, and then hurried away.

Twenty minutes later Bel joined Hector in the kitchen.

“So,...” Hector began and placed a cup of coffee in front of her. Bel knew he wouldn’t stop, so she simply let him. “Do you love him?”

“Uhm…,” Bel stumbled over her words. “I wish you would be so forward in some of your interviews.”

He took her comment gracefully, “Well, he loves you.”

She stared at him for solid twenty seconds, “How can you say that?”

“Did you hear what he said yesterday? I wish, I had came up with something like that when I told you I love you,” he sighed. “Not that it would matter now, but … how has this even happened? Since when?”

“About a week,” Bel sipped from her coffee, hiding an embarrassed face.

“A week?” Hector ruffled his hair and leaned back in his chair. “That is indeed a surprise! Well, okay, you two spent considerable time together in the last few month.”

“What do you mean? Do you try to implicate something?” lack of sleep made her always a bit edgy.

“No, I just thought, you both were maybe dancing around each other for a while without noticing,” Hector took a moment to watch Bel drink her coffee.

Remembering the affair they had, the kisses they shared. Quite a wild happening. When he had told her he was in love with her, he really had believed it, only to realize way later, that he had been wrong, jumping into the next affair because he was a kind of man that had a hard time with staying.

It had cost him a lot of will and work to find back into the arms of his wife - he now knew, he dearly loved. He wouldn’t have deserved Bel, she was too good for him. Bel Rowley was too good for many men, and he wouldn’t tell her, but he never was sure if Freddy would have been the man who would have deserved her. The young boy, her best friend, who had ran away to France to marry another girl. His mistake and he had broken Bel’s hard with it, and so he maybe was right. And now there was Randall Brown, a man he respected, but never considered a match for Bel. He had heard rumours of him and Lix, but till this day he wasn’t sure if those rumours were correct. Lix was gone, so maybe they were.

Was Randall Brown the man who deserved Bel? He came to the conclusion that there was no man who deserved her, only could be good enough for her, and maybe the greying head of news, was good enough for her. Life sometimes took twisted ways.

“You know-”

“-I know, Hector!” she snapped, raising one hand to apologize for her behaviour. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“I am not saying he is too old for you, but if you want to be respected, you need to marry him, and even then, I can tell you, they will look at you all critical and will talk about you two on the quiet,” he reached for his cigarettes. “Let alone, that they never will have you both at The Hour.”

“I am not going to marry him! We are just… it’s a week, Hector. I… I don’t even know what this is!” she held her hands into the room, as if the problem was there to find. “You have seen him, you know how he is. Do you think it makes it easier?”

He smirked, dragging from his cigarette, “It’s obvious you know him way better, darling,” she threw the pack of cigarettes at him, he surprisingly caught. “Do you love him?”

Bel’s head dropped down between her hands, “I don’t know, Hector. I think… I care for him,” she looked at him, worry in her face, confused. “What ever you say, I don’t even know if he loves me.”

“He does,” Hector answered without hesitation. “I am sometimes a bit dense, Bel, but what I saw yesterday and what I heard… he loves you. You are a clever woman, you make him tell you.”

“And then what? What I told you, about better having a carrier, I will tell him. I have no interest in a marriage.”

Hector stood up, “I don’t make the rules, I only break them. So whatever you both do, keeping it a secret, or going to church, you have my word I will keep quiet.”

“Thanks,” Bel smiled at him. “You are a good friend, Hector.”

#

Two days later, they brought Thomas Harrow into the studio and Hector made the best interview since months. A one hour recording and then they put Harrow into a bus with a private investigator to hide him in a little village in Scotland till the interview has aired. They know there will be a trial, huge fuss and the media will go crazy over it.

The day before the expert looks over the papers, they have sorted and shook his head over the construction plans, “Is this real? Is this built? Because when it is, someone is in trouble. That’s highly dangerous.”

When Harrow was gone, the interview was edited, Bel, Hector and Randall stood in the conference room looking at each other.

“We have to get this on air, immediately!” Hector pressed.

They haven’t talked with anyone about the topic, not to their bosses, not to anyone else outside the room. Knowing there would be someone getting out to the alderman Mitchell, and then everything would have been in danger.

“I know,” Randall said, knowing Hector as the plain newsreader he was, didn’t know what danger there was. Heads would roll afterwards, and they had to take care no one interrupted the broadcasting. He looked at Bel, and saw she knew his concerns.

“We have good people,” she remembered him. “We can do this. They will work for us.”

Randall turned around to the cork board, starting to sort some thumbtacks. It was his way of sorting his thoughts. He knew what they had to do, but he knew what would come of it.

“What are you thinking about man?” Hector pushed, but Bel grabbed his arm.

For the story, for the greater good. Randall turned around, and locked eyes with Bel, gently smiling at her, “Tonight then. Tell them we cancel the contribution and will replace it. Tell them to lock the doors and tell them to stay on air.” Bel’s smile grew with every word he said. “We will get in trouble for this.”

“Well then,” Hector slapped Randall onto his back. “Lets have some fun. Because there is no better fun, than getting into trouble for something worth it.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be more interesting, promise!


	6. 06_Sometimes you win, and still lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about trouble is, that it starts always with such fun. In the end, the fun ends, and our three main characters have to face the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as I am not Tom Clancy or John Grisham, I don't bore you with three chapters of political twists and saving the hour and present you all this in a short roundup. This story is in the end about Randall and Bel, and I guess you agree with me.

And they got in trouble for it. While the media took the meat and made a feast out of it, Randall faced the consequences for their actions.

The whole thing was a glorious act of course. People got saved. Persons responsible deposed. One alderman would face a massive trial and the newspapers celebrated The Hour. Forgotten what had happened in the past.

What the authorities of the BBC didn’t like were not being told about it. Randall had known this would happen. The last thing he did being the Head of News was fighting one last fight for the show and he had many aces in his hand. Also one too less.

“We are going off for two weeks,” Randall leaned against the desk, having called in Bel, Hector and the others. There are murmurs and he silenced them with a gesture. “They rename the show, make a new start.”

“What in heaven's name?” Hector raged. “Have they lost their minds over the success?”

Randall decided not to go down the way, and went on with his statement, “It’s now called ‘ _60 minutes’_ , ridiculous, yes. That’s actually the only thing they’re going to change,” there was a meaningful pause, and while everyone seemed to relaxed it was Bel who knew something more was to come, and so he searched Bel’s eyes before going on. “Almost. There will be a new Head of News. I have resigned with immediate effect.”

The people in the room stopped their breathing. A shock.

Hector was the first who dared to speak up, “You mean,they _made_ you resign.”

“That’s all for the moment, go back to work. We made a good job. We saved people with this show. Don’t forget that. Thank you all. It was a privilege.” Randall nodded and people started to leave. “Mister Madden, Miss Rowley. A word please.”

They waited, till everyone was gone, and while Hector closed the door, Bel walked up to Randall.

“Randall?” She felt the need to take his hand, but didn’t. For a second his façade broke, and his hand reached out to her arm, his fingers brushing against her, quickly retreated when Hector joined them.

“What is going on, Mister Brown. The whole thing stinks!” he shoved his hands violently into his pockets.

Randall echoed his motions, “It had to come like this. What do you think, they give us a praise for keeping this a secret? Those people are very prickly.”

Hector was not a man for words, he would have been exploded, when he would have been there, would have kicked some chair over in his manner, “Did you even defend yourself?”

“Hector,” Bel admonished him. “I am sure he did everything he could. We knew we had to pay a price.”

“We? It seems you two knew, and kept the rest of us in the dark,” Hector whirled around and searched for cigarettes in his jacket. Found them, lighted one, and then threw the package onto the table.

“It was you or me, Mister Madden,” Randall snapped. “Changing the face - that you are - of The Hour, is _not_ very wise. Renaming a show can kill it, but there is your face - I don’t like it much,” he gave him a sarcastic smirk, and Hector answered it the same way, “but the people outside do! They know you. You carry it out there, while Bel and I carry it inside these walls. Someone had to go, and that was me. And before you say something,” he turned to Bel. “I told them I will not let happen that they make you go,” he held two fingers up to each of them, “You two, will carry this show now.”

“But-”

“-Decisions are already made,” he cut her off on purpose, stern face, harsh voice and even Hector sensed the tensions. “I am leaving today.”

“There is no need to be so harsh,” he wanted to step between him and Bel, but she didn’t let him. Hector would start up a fight for her, everyone left in the room knew that. “Bel?”

“Give us a minute, Hector,” she gently pushed him toward the exit. “It’s okay.”

She waited for him to say something, but nothing came over his lips.

“So this is it then?” she finally said, after realizing he never would speak up first.

“We saved the show-”

“-You bloody well know I don’t mean the show!” How did she deserve that? When would the time come, that she would have some luck with men. Because this one, was about to run away again.

“Bel, I don’t know what to say,” Randall walked slowly closer, feeling the need to touch her, but was afraid. “I could say I am sorry, but I think it is nothing you want to hear. You have probably heard many flimsy excuses in your life, and mine wouldn’t be better.”

Bel fiddled with her hands first, and then with the pack of cigarettes Hector had left behind, only to throw it away to the ground. She was on the edge. They could save the show, for a price she was not willing to pay - but knew she could do nothing against it. Since days, she had hoped Randall would come to her, to talk to her about the thing between them. Something that hadn’t happened yet, and instead to do it now, he was about to leave. The show. Her. It was exhausting and she couldn’t take it anymore. Not now, and that’s why she snapped, “Christ! Just… damn you!” and then left him behind.

“Bel!” it would have made no sense to follow her, at least, that was, what he thought and so he didn’t. Rubbing his tired eyes, he vanished into his office, sorting out some papers and stayed unobtrusive for the rest of the day. Bel didn’t show up in his office, aside he could hear her from time to time talk with someone, and see her moving around, but she ignored him.

When the day was over, and weekend close, Randall made the mistake to think Bel would be better without him, and left without saying goodbye to anyone. He was good at making mistakes, he knew that. He would write her. Maybe.

#

Bel had run out of the conference room, straight to her office, and had shut the door, urging some tears away, when it knocked and Hector stood in the door frame. Full of all the emotions, she was unable to contain herself and he saw something was wrong. Closing the door, he stepped inside and placed gently a hand on her shoulders, “You had a fight?”

She hated to be so cliché in this moment, but she needed a shoulder to weep at, and so she whirled around and sobbed into his chest, “I wish we had, but instead he said nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I am sorry,” Hector placed his arms around her, comforting her. He couldn’t have crying women and as he knew that Bel was a strong one, he sensed it was something serious. “I hope you told him to get lost.”

“Some sort of,” she took Hector’s handkerchief out of his pocket, and blew her nose. He let her keep it. “But… Oh, I don’t know.”

“You love him.”

“No, I don’t,” Bel rubbed away some tears and checked herself in the mirror. Hector kept quiet and let her watch herself in the mirror and while she observed herself, she gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“And he loves you.”

“And why didn’t he say anything? He didn’t even tried to stay, to come up with an idea. I am waiting for him to talk about us, for days now,” Bel closed the locker in which the mirror was with a bang. “There is not much effort.”

“Because he is Randall Brown, that’s why, Bel,” Hector reached out for her, grabbing her shoulders. “He is not the romantic lead in a movie, who will come after you on a horse.”

“Since when you know about such thing, Hector? Did you watch a bit too much Errol Flynn lately?”

He gave her a smile, and brushed a tear from her cheek, “You know the problem with you women? You wait for us to come after you, and that’s fine for me,” Hector smirked. “I came after you, and we had a not really healthy affair. And then you waited for Freddy to come after you, and the only he did, was run toward another woman. And now you are waiting for Randall, and he will not do it. Because he loves you, and he knows you both can’t be. And as much as I could criticize him, I think, he only does it because he not wants to ruin your reputation. There is not much he can lose, but there is so much you can lose.”

“The most ridiculous thing right now is, that you are right,” Bel freed herself out of his grip and sat down onto her chair. “So you think, I should go after him? That’s what you are suggesting, when I’m not totally blind.”

“I told you, you are a smart woman, you make him talk, you make him act.”

#

Later the day, when it was almost dark, Bel found herself sitting in her car in front of Randall’s apartment building. For an hour she tried to come up with some wise words, with a plan or at least the courage to leave the car and walk up to him. When no inspiration stroke her, she opened the car door, jumped out and walked over to the door, “This is the most stupid thing, I have ever done,” she whispered to herself and pressed the bell with way too much verve.

The buzzer let her in and when she reached his door, she knocked. The surprise in his face was clear to see.

“Bel…,” he was still wearing parts of his suit. Trousers, the shirt, no tie, no vest, top button open, and braces visible.

“Can I come in?” she glanced nervously down the floor, and he nodded quickly and stepped aside. She never had been at his place, and for a moment she thought it was a mistake to come her, as it was no neutral ground. Also it was probably the only chance she had. God knows where he would disappear too when she would wait too long. Without waiting for him, she walked down the floor to the living room, taking of her coat and placed it over a chair nearby. She found confidence, that it couldn’t get worst.

He never had thought she would come to him, and now she was here, standing in his living room, he was overwhelmed and scared at the same time. “Do you want something to drink?”

She ignored his offer, “Can you imagine, how annoyed I was by you, when you started at The Hour?” she spoke up loud, all in turmoil, raging, like a storm brewing inside of her.

He leaned slightly back, he very well could.

“I complained to Lix about you, about ‘ _what did they send us’_ , and who the hell you were and you would fiddle with things!” she laughed fretful over the memory. “And you know what she said? She said, that the Parisien office surely not gotten everything wrong, as they said you were the best Head of News they ever had - and Lix was right and so was Paris. You are a brilliant Head of News. You can’t go!”

So she was here to convince him to stay, she was here as his producer, trying to keep the Head of News. Business then.

“It was Mister Madden or me. This show needs a face, and that’s not me.”

“I see why you made this decision, and god, I can’t give you higher regards, but just because I am curious,” she bit her lip hard before she spoke up. “Did you think, at least once, about me while deciding? About us?”

Not only business then. “You were the main thing, I was thinking about while deciding, Bel. What do you expected me to do? Chose you over The Hour? The show we saved, the show that is _so_ important for this country - we proofed this once more in the last few days. I wish I would be not the coward you see me, but I couldn’t put myself over the show. If I stay, we can’t be, they never let us be together. I would ruin your reputation, and staying would have meant, to end this, and still seeing you every day. Do you think, that’s something I want? Aside that the show would have get cancelled.”

“Then let it get cancelled!” she called out on impulse.

“You know you don’t mean it, you know you live for this show more than anyone!” he stood in front of her, like on the first day they had met. “No, it is unlucky how it turned out, also it’s the right thing. ”

“You don’t even try to give us a chance, don’t you?” she turned around, glaring at a bookshelf for a moment. “You never believed in an ‘ _us’_ , ain’t I right?”

He waited for her to turn around again, “Bel, why would you want to be with me, anyway?”

“Do you remember the day we first met? The moment after you told me Freddy would be the new co-host?” she walked over to his sofa, touching it slightly with her fingertips. He hadn’t forgotten, how could he.

“You were very dissatisfied with me, that day,” Randall remembered.

“Do you remember what you said to me there?” she turned around again, stepping up to him, her arms crossed in front of her.

‘ _Let me hear your tick, Miss Rowley!’_ “Yes, I do,” a frown darted over his face, as he couldn’t find an explanation why she had came up with this old story.

Knowing he was confused, Bel waited long seconds before delivering her explanation. “You make me tick.”

A twitch with an eyebrow and a startled expression.

“Since I met you, you make me tick,” she began. “First as my Head of News, and then later as the man Randall Brown. You make me tick, Randall. And I think there is a reason why you check my pulse from time to time - isn’t that what you said?”

“Y-yes,” he had told that Lix once, and he guessed she had told it Bel. He had known the bond between the two women had been strong. “Bel, I am...I am going back to France, they asked me to come back. And that’s what I am going to do.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out at first. It was a shock to hear it. She felt betrayed, now more than ever. “And you wanted to tell me this when?”

“I’m no match for you,” he said low. “You know nothing about me. We never shared a personal talk before … all this happened. And I would be a disappointment to you.”

He was afraid, of all things, he was afraid of her, “And again, you are making decisions for us both. One could think we are married.”

It made him smile one of his rare smirks, “Would you like that - just hypothetical - marry someone like me, a restrained and awkward workaholic?” he broke eye contact and looked down to the floor. He not really wanted to hear the answer.

“You are more than that, and you know that and I know that,” she touched his arm, to bring him back to her. “I know you! I don’t have to go on dinners with you at Mancini’s or Spencer’s, having little fancy talks about the newest gossip. We wouldn’t even like it, we would hate it, because it’s something that society says, people have to do, when they start dating.

“We don’t need that, we never needed it, we are beyond it, we know each other. We don’t need to share small talk over a glass of wine or soda, with dry fish or something. Getting judged by those middle class gawking couples, who think they are better than us. I don’t have to do this, because I know you.”

“How?”

“We work since over a year together, I see you almost every day - damn, of course I know you. I know what drives you, what makes you.

“You fiddle with things, yes, straight lines, all that. I don’t care. You like risks, and you take them, for a good story. You fight for it, in a restrained manner, but you do. You love this job with all your heart, and you like keeping us on our toes.

“You’re thoughtful, you’re smart, you’re kind and you care about everyone here - even for Hector. Of course nothing you would say out loud. You hold yourself back, because you are afraid to let someone in. Keep your employees at distance, because personal interference would be not the wisest thing as the Head of News.

“You hate going to parties, you rather prefer staying home with a good book instead of going to a good dance, because if you want some people buzzing around you, you can go into the newsroom. That is what makes _you_ tick.”

Randall stared at her, with an expression she couldn’t match to one emotion. He looked hurt, and surprised. It was to her, as if she was the first person ever, who seemed to be able to read in him, and after 54 years he was not sure if this should make him happy or afraid.

With a fond smile, she touched his cheek for a moment, her thumb brushing over his skin, her fingers stroking over his temple, then she took it away again.

Pointing out to the many books he had, “I am sure you can recite some nice poems and a lot of Freud. And if you had to choose between a holiday on the beach or a nice remote condo in Scotland you would go probably for none of it, because why all the fuss, when you can stay home with a good book and good tea. Also you probably would choose Scotland from time to time.

“You are more for a play and not for cinema. And you don’t want kids, because I guess you are beyond that point - sadly. You like suits - obviously. You were an alcoholic. You smoke. You are six foot tall, and you wear ridiculous glasses. And I really like them on you.”

Randall was overwhelmed hearing all that little facts, that were true in every bit. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“To proof you, that I know you, that I care for you. And now I proof to you, that you know _me_ , because you know, I rather would go to a nice dance, than reading a good book - but not always. I love the cinema, but screw the beach. So there would be a match. Also I don’t want kids, I want to have a carrier, I am a workaholic, and I love this job too.

“You are... not that young anymore, and I am not that old, but who cares? I had an affair with a married man and the man who matched my age, married another girl, so thinking about it, this age gap is maybe what I could get comfortable with. Also I don’t want to get married, in case you want to do this.

“There is one thing you maybe don’t know about me; I can’t cook very good. And I don’t like cats,” she laughed nervously, running out of words, and in hope he would finally interrupt her because if not, she would start to tell him about the size of her shoes or something similar stupid.

“We maybe not match a hundred percent, but who does? Why not come to a dance with me, and afterwards you read me a book, and we share a cup of tea together? We can try this out. Explore this, together.”

“Bel,-”

“Long story short, Randall, but I think I love you. And I don’t want you to go,” her voice slowly broke, tears began to water in her eyes. “I want you to stay, and I want you to kiss me and-”

He stopped her with covering her lips with his. His arms pulling her into a tight embrace, one hand sprawling over her back, the other cupping the back of her neck, not allowing her to move away from him, while his tongue pleaded for entrance into her mouth.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I save the heated things for the next chapter ;). Is this torture? I assume, yes.  
> In case you had fun with this chapter, leave a comment or a kudo.  
> I had a comment about the age gap and that it might would have been not such a problem in the 50s, also I think as Bel does not want to marry, it would have been one. But I agree, when they would get marry (spoilers!) it wouldn't be such a problem, but there would be still judging.  
> I talked with janescoot on tumblr and we agreed that Bel - for the 50s - could be considered a scarlet woman, as she had an affair with a married man, and with Freddy two affairs with work colleagues. No one knows about it, so no disgrace here. Also I always thought, with her being around 30 (28 in the show, 32 in my fic) people would pick on her as she is not married yet and more invested in her job. I am sure a woman like her had to face the rumour she would try to sleep her way up. Having something going on with Randall would mean she would try to seduce her boss and being married to him, would mean (as in some firms today) they couldn't work together any more. At least that's how I see it.  
> Anyone who has further infos or experience, I would love to hear it.


	7. 07_Come with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't need a summery, you guys know what will happen. Almost...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very M-rated chapter. And without giving away too many spoilers, I needed to do some serious research on 1950s underwear here. You think writing love scenes is easy, nah, I worked on that all day. Just you know. Not that I am complaining ;).

Bel didn't let him beg long, granting him access into her mouth, tasting his tongue, with a warm feeling rushing through her body while she pressed herself against Randall.

Her hands holding his face, showing him her affection, showing him how badly she needed him and he didn't hold back, kissing her deep, exploring her mouth and lips, little gasps between them.

When they parted for air Bel shoved her hands under the braces by his shoulders and pushed them down.

Earning an observing look from him, she hesitated, "Do you...?"

His expressions broke into a smile, "Yes."

With that he tucked down his braces over his hands, grabbing for her hips, to pull her in once more to kiss her. Her hands started to unbutton the jacket of her lady’s suit, while Randall let the way to his bedroom, under kisses, little smirks and touches.

When they found the spot in front of his bed, her jacket was gone, and his shirt half open and Bel reached out to unbutton the rest and Randall reached for her blouse, their hands tangled up, colliding with each other, and they smiled nervously and then they came to the silent understanding to undress themselves.

His shirt landed on the floor, revealing an undershirt, and he stopped, hesitated, and even more got distracted, when Bel stood in front of him, only her bra on, and he was taken away by the sight.

She saw the affection in his eyes, and felt proud, proud to make him look flustered, proud he seemed to like what he saw, even he didn’t saw everything yet. Instead of taking off the bra, she stepped forward, kissing him, making him sit on the bed and gathered up her skirt, so she could sit on the bed over his lap. His warm hands holding her by her hip, caressing there, with gentle strokes, her skin. Looking at her, stretching his back, reaching out to her, to steal more kisses from her lips.

Randall forgot where he was, and what stressful weeks laid behind them and most of all, the complications between Bel and him. The doubts and the worries, all gone now. He wanted this so much, he hadn’t lied when he had showed up at her apartment. To turn away - not showing her his affections - had been one of the hardest decision he had ever made.

Right now it was only her he concentrated on, her and his promise to show her who he really was and what she meant to him. His lips trailing down her jawline, over her throat, down her chest - breathing her in, making every touch a memory.

Wandering down over the soft rising of her bosom, he placed gentle kisses along the fabric of her bra, and Bel took his hint, and shoved down the straps of it, allowing him to tuck the edges aside. Her heart was racing and beating so hard, Randall must heard it, she thought.

And he probably would have, when his own heart wouldn’t be so busy hammering against the inside of his chest. It had been a while since he caressed a woman like that and while he had not forgotten how to do it, how to find pleasure in it, he was nervous and shaky, his fingers shyly fumbling with the clasp of her bra. Bel helped him, and it fell to the ground. Suddenly she felt all shy, and searched his eyes, while holding her hands in front of her.

Her cheeks were blushing and strands of hair fell enticing into her face, and he couldn’t remember when he had seen something more beautiful.

His hands cupped her face, and he brought her close to him, giving her a soft kiss on the lips, “Bel Rowley you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” and she opened her arms, bringing them around his neck and he smiled against her, licking the spot over her collarbone.

Burying her nose and lips into his hair, she nuzzled his skin there, breathing little gasps while she felt his lips wander down to her bosom. His tongue darting out, circling the peaks of her breasts, making soft flesh hard, and when she moaned over the sensation he cupped them with his mouth, sucking, till he needed to groan over the flushing heat that went with it through his body.

Randall was no man of rash decisions, and she enjoyed how he took his time, caressing her breasts with his mouth and hands, gently kneading them, making her moan and she scratched over his shirt, tugging it up with her fingertips, to make contact with his warm skin.

Her hair tickled his skin at his shoulder, when she leaned down, kissing and biting him and he felt his arousal strong in his body and his middle and then he couldn’t hold back anymore and fell onto his back with her in his arms, and she squealed surprised over his action. It made him chuckle, brushing her hairs aside, to claim her lips once more, deep and tender.

“I want you, Bel,” he spoke husky, his lips red from her lipstick. “I want you so much.”

No one ever had told her this. The men she had been with just had claimed her, and never had voiced their desire and once more she was sure, that Randall could be indeed a wonderful match, “I want you too. Please. Don’t hold back.”

His answer was embracing her, and then rolling her over, taking great care, he didn’t hurt her in any way. His knees between her straddled legs, he began without delay to kiss a path down her chest, over her stomach. Anticipating what he was about to do, Bel’s body squirmed and trembled under all the passionate tensions between them.

Randall’s finger found the zip of her skirt, and when it was open, he tucked at it, and Bel rose her lower body so he could shove the fabric down her legs, revealing beige knickers and some fine matching suspender tights with a garter belt. The sight of it made his whole body tingle, and he couldn’t deny to himself, that he always found it so arousing seeing a woman in such lingerie. In that point he wasn’t any better as most men.

Bel’s fingers dug into his hair, scratching his scalp and also pushing him gently down, feeling her body burn and yearn for his mouth between her legs. And as she told him not to hold back, he didn’t, his nose and mouth brushing over her covered centre, taking in her scent, and making her moan under the soft pressure. He did it once more, knowing he needed to keep himself away for a bit longer, when not he would lose all control. So he closed his eyes for a moment, letting his hands travel down her legs, first over the straps of the tights, then over her knees, the tips of his fingers feeling the fine pattern of the tights. Bel was warm, almost burning under his touches, and she rose her head, watching him, how he nibbled the flesh at her upper thighs.

For a second she wished, she had forgotten to wear any underwear at all, so filled up with lust she was, “Randall,” she pressed and he heard the pleading sound in her voice and opened his eyes again, coming around her waist to loose the clip of the garter belt in order to take off her tights in one smooth motion, leaving her only in her panties. He took care, to place the delicate fabric of the tights, carefully aside, and when he turned back at her, he found Bel looking at him, her chest heaving and her eyes flickering down to her underwear.

He swallowed, then he found his courage again, taking of his glasses first and then removed her knickers slowly, while trailing with his lips over her belly. Her scent hit him and crawled into his nose and as soon as the panties were over her ankles, he grabbed her legs, and placed them over his shoulders, sinking down between her legs.

With a slow licking of his tongue over her sex he spread her labia and tasted her delicious juice in one act. Bel cried out, her hands gripping the bedspread. She wanted to say something, think something, but every thought was blown away, replaced by waves of pleasure and lust and the thought of what Randall could and would do to her. She breathed heavy and before she could do anything, she felt his fingers spread her and his tongue circling her little nub.

Randall was surely no womaniser, but he had done it before, and he enjoyed doing it - control freak he was. He couldn’t remember getting any complains from the few women he had in his life. And Bel didn’t sound as if she would be the first, moaning and panting under his licking tongue, one hand gripping the bedspread, the other entangled in his hair.

After a few moments, he glanced up to her, finding her eyes closed, mouth half open, and so he stopped for a moment with his mouth and instead entered her with his middle finger finding her biting her lower lip with her teeth, a guttural sound escaping her throat.

He gave her a slow rhythm, his thumb brushing over her clit in coalition with his tongue, making Bel’s hip move under him, going with his motions.

Bel felt as if she was laying in a bath of warm tides washing in a coming and going over her body. In her centre grew a throbbing feeling, ready to slosh over her any second. God, it felt so good, his finger slightly curled up inside her, his lips suckling against one of her most sensitive spots. She was all his in this moment, and never wanted to be someone else's.

“Randall,” she gasped, so close now to her climax, and she tried to hold it back, but he joined his middle finger with a second finger and then it was too late, and the firework of endorphins went off in her body, pulsing through her, making her cry out and press her head into the pillow. Her fingers digging hard into his shoulders, and he licked her through her orgasm till she needed to press her legs together, believing she would die when not.

Her breath rigid, one arm over her eyes, she slowly came back down from the high Randall had brought her. Randall’s hand caressed her legs, placing little kisses over her hipbone, slowly coming up to her again, watching her recover with a smile.

“Bel…”

She opened her eyes to find his, filled with lust and something that could only be adoration. His lips covered with her wetness. One hand reached out to him, touching his cheek, making him lean down, so she could kiss him, and taste herself. Something she hadn’t done very often. She pressed herself against him, finding him hard against her middle, she guessed he must be in desperate need by now and so she reached for his belt, and while she opened his trousers he drew his undershirt over his head and Bel found herself looking at his chest. Spare chest hair in grey and black curls, a lean figure, fine defined muscles spanning under his tight skin, his arms strong but matching his whole lean figure. She liked what she saw, and to shoo away the worries in his look, she leaned over and placed kisses over his chest, making him lay on his back and crawled over him.

“Bel,” his hands came up, touching her hips and sides. “What-”

She placed a finger on his lips, “Let me explore you. Just this once.”

He knew what she meant, just this once, before he left her but before he could think too long over it, her hands touched him by his groins, while her mouth kissed down his chest, licking over his nipples. Having his trousers open, her fingers slipped into the waistband of his underwear, and pulled, making him move his bottom for a moment and when the cotton brushed over his reaction he needed to groan.

She had seen him before, in her office, when she had freed him, and had made him take her on her desk, but that had been all in a hurry and so now she took the time to admire his nakedness. Aware he was twenty years older, and as he had said beyond his prime, she found him handsome and attractive in his own way. He was not a young man anymore, and right there, she knew she didn’t need a young man, but him.

Randall looked up, seeing her eyes roam over his body, his sex and what usually would make him feel shy and restrained sent shivers down his spine and made his length twitch. Bel caught his glances, and smirked, biting her lip, her tongue between her lips, and he blushed. Her hand coming around him, stroking him with a gentle squeeze upwards, and before she could go on, his hand spun around her wrist stopping her. Two more and he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So she laid aside from him, her hands sprawling over his chest, and he rolled to his side, embracing her, kissing her long and languid as he had done in the kitchen. And while the minutes passed, and his fingers trailed over her spine, her bottom and her upper thighs, she felt new desire grow in her. One of her legs, reached over his and signalled him to move over her, and he didn’t resist a second, straddling her legs, his erection pressing against her middle.

Resting on his forearms, he shoved some strands of hair behind her ear, fondly smiling, “Bel?”

“Mh?” she copied his motion.

“It’s maybe not the right moment, but… I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You were the only thought I had the last few weeks.”

Her answer was a smile and a kiss, passionate and hungry for him, she couldn’t be more happy over his confession. She bucked up with her hip and he took himself in hand, and with a little tilting of her hip, he finally entered her. Slowly sliding down, they both gasped, feeling the gentle friction, feeling how two became one.

Randall was so full of love, lust and passion, he knew he would need to bring up a lots of concentration to give her room to come again, but Bel urged him not to hold back, hooking her legs into his and so he slid firm in and out of her.

When there was a heaven, he thought, he had found it with her here.

They kissed and their hips rocked against each other, her motions fabricating moans and little praisings. Sensing he would soon come, he locked eyes with Bel, “Show me what you want,” knowing she would knew best, how to reach the peek with him.

Bel didn’t hesitate a moment, and made him roll once again onto his back, now sitting in his lap, making him sink deeper in her. Her hands on his chest, she started to ride him, feeling his length working wonderful against the hot spot inside of her, her clit rubbing against his pubic bone. And when her second orgasm slowly brushed over her, her head fell back.

Randall’s hand clasped around her hip, going with her rhythm, watching her enjoy herself and then, when he saw she was about to come, he pressed his thumb against her, and not only her firework went off, but his clashed over him, and he came under her hard strokes, all on fire and seeing white behind his eyelids, like a hundred suns had exploded at once. He arched his back, and needed to still Bel’s movement, “Oh, god.”

Feeling kisses on his mouth he hummed against her lips, his hands caressing over her back, holding her close, burying then his face in the crook of her neck, kissing the salt from her skin and when he felt she shivered, he gently lifted her from his lap and covered them both with a blanket.

“That was…,” for a second she went lost in his greenish eyes, “I…,” she blushed and sank with her face into his arms, hiding.

Randall suddenly worried over her reaction, “What? What is it, Bel? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” she searched his eyes again. Pecking his lips a few times. “It was wonderful. I … I never had something like that with a man, not like this… what you did… it felt so good. Everything.”

Bel needed to chuckle of the sudden change of colour in his face, as he blushed violently over her compliments, all shy and flustered. He stuttered a few syllables that made no sense and then only smiled, “I...I worship you, I thought that’s what a man does when he loves the woman he kisses and makes love to.”

She looked so long at him, that he started to think that he had said something wrong, once more, but she shook her head, reading his mind. Maybe she was all lovestruck, in a state of being befogged by her feelings - blind because of love, but right now, Randall Brown was flawless to her. And then the old sorrows hit her.

“You shouldn’t say that,” she rested her head on his shoulder, making circles on his chest with one of her fingers.

“Why not?” he asked, placing a kiss on top of her head.

Bel kept silent, unable to put her angst into words, and she didn’t need to. Randall knew. Randall always knew. “Because I am leaving.”

“Yes,” she closed her eyes to urge some tears away. “Because you are leaving me.”

Randall hesitated for a moment, and then moved away from her, so that he could see her. Both resting their heads onto a pillow and a hand, he grabbed her free hand and kissed her open palm before asking, “How is your French?”

“I can order coffee and a croissant, and once I gave a French journalist a very good shout over the telephone, why?”

“Come with me. To France.”

Her head moved back slightly, and she tried to detect the joke he was making. After some seconds she saw, he meant it and she laughed up, “Wasn’t it you, who told me only half an hour ago, I had to stay, because the show needs me?”

“And that’s true,” he smiled gently at her. “You have to stay, but not longer than six month.”

“Then what?” she came up, resting her head on her hand, pushing into the mattress with her elbow.

“You come to Paris.”

“Randall, I am sorry, I don’t understand? What shall I do in Paris?” a vague idea hit her, what he could mean, and before he could answer her question she said. “As your wife or what? I am not going to marry you!”

He huffed, thirty percent hurt and seventy amused, grabbing for his glasses on the night stand, “I am glad you kept _that_ to yourself.”

She made a face, and slumped back into the pillow, “You know how I mean it.”

“I know,” now it was him, towering over her. She couldn’t oversee the mischievous smile on his lips. “When Paris called me, they were a bit desperate and… I told them, I would come, under one condition.”

Slowly her eyebrows rose, “What condition?”

“That I have a brilliant producer at hand, who I want to have with me in the boat,” he gave her a little smoulder with pursed lips, waiting for her to catch up with the idea.

“And they said… yes?”

“Yes, in six month from now, you can work with me there. I am being your Head of News and you are my producer,” he could see a glimmer rising in her eyes, coming to terms with the idea, and then she blinked and it was gone, instead concerns were back.

“Randall, I know the French are a bit more _swinging_ , but… you and me, working together, not married. What do you expect me to do? Hide our affair? If there is a country who knows about love, it’s the French and they will see it by the expressions of our faces,” she exhaled. “I am not going to play hide and seek in France.”

He loved the fire that was inside of her, and knew he could warm himself all day long at it, “There is one more thing, I might have told them.”

“Oh, god,” she rubbed over her face. “Did you make them take Hector too? I only can warn you, his French is not only appalling but none existent.”

“No, god grief! No!” Randall burst out into a laughter. “I told them we are married.”

He looked at the ceiling, biting his lower lip, to hide a grin, when her face appeared over him, “You did what?”

“Yes,” he shrugged, and came up, to kiss her, but she didn’t let him, pressing him down again.

“Are you completely insane now?” Bel searched for words. “Are you tricking me into marriage?”

“No, I don’t want you to marry me. They don’t have to know we are not married. They don’t really care. I only told them, because of what you said. So we don’t have to hide. We can live together as a couple, and when it doesn’t work out, you leave me and no trouble,” he explained his plan, he had came up on a whim when the people from Paris had called him.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Not that I am planning to leave you,” Bel began slowly. “What if, what shall I do in Paris then? I can’t go back to London, the job will be gone here.”

“Bel, I tell you five more broadcasters in Paris or France, who will take you with a kiss on the hand without asking questions,” he grabbed her face, beaming at her. “If you want, I’ll write you a recommendation letter in which you can walk on water.”

“Well, that would be something,” she chuckled and laid back again.

When a minute had passed, Randall rolled over to her, “What do you say?”

“I… I don’t know. That’s a lot,” she said baffled. “Can I think about it?”

It was not the answer he had expected, also he couldn’t say what he had expected, “Of course. If you like you can think six month about it.”

“When I say no-”

“It would not affect the love I have for you,” Randall pressed. “I know I can’t expect you to do this. You have a good carrier in front here. I am sure, I will hear about you doing amazing things here,” he not wanted to let her go without a fight. “When it helps, the pay is the better, the office has a wonderful view over the Seine and is across my office.”

Bel had to admit those were tempting arguments, but she was not one for rash decisions either and needed the time to think about. Leaving to France for a holiday was different as leaving London forever.

She smiled at him, and Randall noticed the sadness in her eyes, “Kiss me. Kiss me as if it is the last time.”

Knowing it might be, he kissed her long and hard, tender and full of love, caressed her body till long after midnight, till they both fell asleep exhausted and happy - at least for one day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is the 1950s, I am not sure how sex went on there. Aside the usual necessary business of course. I can imagine some couples might were eager but a bit prudish and I guess the female climax was not such a big deal (for men) as today. I have no connections to the 50s, and even if I had, I would not ask them for advice (bit awkward convo I guess). So I tried to make Bel eager as she is 32 in my fic, but still a bit surprised of what is possible. And Randall our silver fox here, of course can play the ace his age brings with it. Don't tell me Randall doesn't know, because he knows how to seduce a woman.   
> And I wanted to tell you, I probably have never wrote more love scenes for a fictional character as for Randall (four I think). For all who read my Randall fics, I hope I don't repeat myself and I think I am able to reveal every time a new bit of him. 
> 
> Ah, and of course, what decision will Bel make? One chapter to go.


	8. 08_Why are you not here with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall has left to Paris. Bel left behind in London, has to make a decision. Will she follow him? Or will she stay and end their relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little time jump between the last chapter and this. Randall has now left to Paris and the clock is now ticking for Bel. She has 6 months time to decide if she wants to follow him or not. As everybody is now gone, there is only Hector left and so this chapter are some conversations with him, and they also shall help the reader to understand the trouble and turmoil Bel is with this decision. I hope it works out.

Two weeks later

“Have you ever been to France?” Bel sat in the conference room, stirring her tea with a spoon, watching absently out of the window while Hector sorted through some news articles. They had fifteen minutes till the next live show would start.

“No,” he said without looking up. “Never fancied France. The French are always so… so pompous, don’t you think?” Bel snickered and it made Hector look at her, smiling, proud he made a good joke. “You?”

“No, never got the chance,” she mused, still stirring the tea and Hector considered she had swirled the liquid dead already.

“Why?”

“Mh?”

“Why you are asking?” he repeated. “Sounds casually but as I know you, I don’t think it is.”

Acknowledging she rose an eyebrow at him, underlined with a fond smile, “Randall asked me to go there. To come with him.”

Hector shoved his papers away, and leaned back into the rest of his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest, “As what? His mistress?” The mocking was more directed at the absent man as her.

“No,” she grumbled but said nothing more, and that made him suspicious.

“As his wife then? God, grace!”

“No!” she gave him a soft glare and then added sheepishly. “Not exactly.”

Hector’s tongue traced over his teeth while thinking about it, “Gosh, Bel, I am not drunk enough to understand it. As what then?”

Bel explained it to him and with every word Hector shook his head more, “This is…”

“Insane, I know.”

“No, this is actually brilliant!” he corrected. Immoral, but he liked the idea.

“What? He wants us to lie about our… our non-existing marriage!”

“Well, so what?” a dismissive hand gesture followed his bemused facial expression. “The French will not care about it. They maybe would care about it, when you both wouldn’t be married - what you are not - but as long as they believe it…,” Hector realized how complicated it sounded when one tried to explained it. “It’s the smartest thing to do.”

“Oh, only a man can say that, can’t he?” Bel snapped over to him.

“Of course you can marry him for real, but when you realize it will not work out for you, you both are screwed,” Hector shrugged. “What he wants, is to give you the chance to date, to find out if you can make it longer as those three weeks in the office. You know you both can’t date like that. Not in England and not in France, people would look at you. When you would be married - for the public eye - no one would say something, and the French have no problem you work together, all the contrary for here.”

“He expects me to leave London, my friends, my family, my job for him. In case it doesn’t work out, I … I can’t go back.”

“You’ll find easily a job somewhere else, he is right about that,” Hector said. “Also, don’t you see what he wants to do for you? The Head of News, having a wife, suddenly, and then… in case you think twice about it, you leave him. How people would look at him? Mh? Ever thought about it? The old man, left by his young, beautiful wife. There would be rumours immediately.”

“He is a man, they will give a damn,” Bel didn’t let it count.

“With anyone else, I would say yes,” Hector lit up a cigarette, dragging a few times, considering the right words he wanted to say. “He is Randall Brown, an old bachelor, not… not me.”

“I am so glad he isn’t!”

“Oh, you know what I mean. There would be talk, and Mister Brown is maybe someone for ignoring it, but not for not taking it to his heart.”

There he was right, “And what happens, when he finds out _he_ not wants to be with me?”

Hector leaned forward, “Then you’ll go your way, and don’t look back. As if you need this man! Aside,” he chuckled, and stood up, gathering his papers together, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, “as if this will ever happen. The man is totally in love with you!”

“So you would go to Paris?” Bel followed him, out of the conference room, toward the newsroom.

“No!” he answered immediately and stopped by an empty office to press out his cigarette in the ashtray.

Bel considered her friend, unsure if she should elaborate further. And for a minute she said nothing, only watched him, smiling and grinning at her. Hector had his next answer to her question already sorted, and only waited for her to ask.

“Fine, why not?”

Hector sat himself behind the table, and checked his tie, “Easy answer, because I am not the one in love with him.”

#

Another two weeks later

“So?” Hector peaked with his head into her office, and then decided to stroll toward her desk, not without taking a look into one of the newspapers on her desk - as if he really cared. “Any… news?”

Since she had asked him about France, they hadn’t talked anymore about the topic nor about Randall. For a week she had thought he would lose his patience over it, as he was so very curious about gossip, but he kept quiet and she started to wonder. “You want to know if I have heard from Randall? If I already made arrangements for a permanent leave to France?”

“If those are the news, I am happily listening to them,” he winked, and sat across from her desk. Since he had stopped drinking, he was clearly getting his kicks from something else.

“No, I made no arrangements. Haven’t packed any boxes and didn’t check for an apartment in Paris, if you want to know that,” Bel tried to be dismissive by typing something on the typewriter, but made an error the moment she had finished her sentence and made a hissing sound.

“So ,Mister Brown got in contact with you,” Hector concluded. “Aside I am sure - as you would be married,” he earned a rolling with her eyes, “you would surely live in the same place, wouldn’t you?”

Bel decided to ignore the last part, at least on the outward, “He has written two letters and he calls, from time to time.”

Hector waited for more, and lost his nerve, when she didn’t go on, “And? God, Bel, speak up!”

Giving up on the letter she wanted to type, she stood up and walked around her desk, leaning against the edge, “I… I haven’t answered his letters, and when he calls, I do as if I am busy.”

“Why would you do that?”

“That’s what women do, Hector, when they are insecure and stupid like I am! And… I don’t know what to do!” she threw her hands into the air. There were black rims under her eyes, and she felt exhausted, and pushed and she hadn’t found the guts to tell Randall that she was maybe not ready to do the step and feared he would try to convince her or worst, he would not try at all.

“What is stopping you? Your friends? This job?” he wanted to help her, but knew in the end she was the only one who could make the decision.

“Yes,” she fiddled with a pen in her hand. “Yes.”

“Friends come and go, Bel. You find some new, and…and when you visit, I still will be here, in case you consider me a friend, and not only the guy you had an affair with.”

“You don’t want me to go, do you?” she dropped the pen back onto the desk.

“Not really, you are a brilliant producer, because of you I still have a job, I guess,” he smiled thankfully. “You have guts, and you are a good friend to me. But…out of experience, when you stay, for a while everything will be fine, and then, one day, you notice all your friends and colleagues have moved on and you are left behind,” he stood up and walked up to her. “And then you’ll regret it. I think when you love someone, it’s worth leaving others behind. Also, we not going to die without you here. And you are not going to die without us. In the end, you have to choose which lose is the minor heartbreak.”

“Since when you are an expert for such decisions, huh?”

“By failing all the time,” he brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Whatever you do. I am sure it will be the right decision.”

#

Five month since Randall has left

“I am not going to do it,” Bel suddenly announced, sorting some files in a shelf, while Hector read the news article he needed to present this evening.

“Excuse me? What are you not going to do?”

“I am not going to Paris.”

Hector’s hand slowly dropped down, and then his fingers let go of the papers and they scattered over the floor. Bel gave him a short glance, as he kept silent, then saw all the papers and quickly hurried over, “Hector, the papers!” and went on her knees to collect them.

“What do you mean, you are not going to Paris?” he joined her on the floor, but didn’t collect the papers.

“That I am not following Randall to Paris,” she didn’t look at him, only reached for the papers bit by bit under his observing and shocked look. “Stop looking at me like this. The decision is made. I … I can’t go. It’s over.”

“Over? What is over? Did you have a fight again?”

They both came to their feet again, “No, he stopped calling. And the last letter arrived two month ago, so I guess… he gave up in the end. I didn’t call back and …”

“And what?” he snapped. Hector knew it was not his right, but he was some sort of angry with her. His harsh tone, had an effect.

“Because I love him, and because I am afraid, and because he should be here and not in damn Paris waiting for me!” she yelled, pushing the papers into his arms. “He should…,” her voice broke off and some tears run down her cheeks. Bel turned away from Hector, walking over to the window, looking outside.

‘ _The office has a wonderful view over the Seine.’_

This window had no view at all, she usually never looked out of it. She didn’t care, as she was too busy. It was her dream job, she had done everything and had done it twice as much and hard as the men before her, to get it. Being in London, at the BBC, working for The Hour - or 60 Minutes how they called it for now, was her dream job.

Before Randall had arrived, she had done everything to keep the show together. It had been hard and exhausting, and then Freddie died and since all had happened, she had done nothing else but fight for this show. And then, she had made a mistake, by falling in love with the damn Head of News, with Randall Brown.

‘ _I am tired of being a mistress, I’ve done that once too often! And I am certainly not waiting to become anyone’s wife!’_

There was a soft creaking sound and it filled the room for a moment, but Bel ignored it, brushing her tears away, “I am tired, Hector! I am tired fighting, to get what I want. I fought for this job, I do this ever since, and it never stops.”

“Bel…,” Hector spoke up only to stop himself.

Bel watched for a moment, a few kids running down the streets, smiling over them, “I don’t expect him to come by with a damn horse. God beware, but… he tells me he loves me and two days later he hopped into a plane toward France, leaving me behind with an impossible decision!” her hands clasped around her neck, her fingers digging into her tense muscles. “Just once I wish it was not me who had to struggle for it. The thing is, I damn love him, and god knows, I would follow him to France. I mean, it’s Paris!” she amused herself over the thought, trying to find something positive in her rant. “Everybody loves Paris, I am sure it would be beautiful.”

“So?” Hector asked hesitantly.

“So?” Bel whispered, picturing Randall for a moment. She missed him. So much it hurt in her heart.

‘ _Don’t work too long.’_

Their relationship hadn’t started out of the ordinary, and she smiled over it. In the last few month, she wished Freddie would be still alive. She was sure he would be more than amused over her fall for Randall. He had been her best friend, surely he would have gotten an advice for her.

“He shouldn’t be in France right now, Hector,” she then said, tapping with her fingernail against the glass. “He should be…”

“I should be here,” Randall’s voice reached her ear and made her look up, eyes wide open. A daydream surely. “Fighting for you.”

Bel didn’t dare to turn around, afraid it had been only her imagination, “Hector?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent Mister Madden away for a minute.”

Bel whirled around, finding Randall standing in the room, worried lines on his face. A coat over his arms, a small bag in his hands. Wearing a suit, and tie and a vest, like he used to show up for work.

“Randall,” slowly she stepped toward him, taking him in, after not seeing him for five month. “You… you came.””

He placed the bag onto the floor and his coat over a chair nearby, and then stepped up to her, “Of course I came. For you!” a smile flickered over his face and then they both stepped up to each other, and Randall captured her lips with his. Bel pressed against him, her arms around his neck, tasting him, taking in his odour, savouring the long missed contact. 

“Why?”

“Do you think, only because you don’t answer my letters, and don’t call me back, I’ll stop loving you?” he held her face between his hands, caressing her cheeks like he used to do it. “It was obvious that I made a mistake, leaving you alone with this decision. So instead of writing another letter, I entered a plane this morning.”

“You are completely insane!” Bel smiled against his lips.

“No,” he insisted whispering into her ear. “For you I would do everything.”

Smiling at each other, he pulled her in for a sensual kiss. It meant so much to her, knowing anytime someone could come in, but he obviously had stopped thinking about the problems that surrounded them. Willing to take the risk - with her.

A clearing of a throat, “Oh, come on people!” Hector. “Take a room, will you?”

Bel blushed and Randall only kept his eyes on her, gently smiling, still holding her in his arms, shoving her long hair by her ear aside, nuzzling it. Randall had no visible intention to let go of her. Not for Hector, and not for anyone else.

“Just a minute, Hector,” she smirked and gave Randall another innocent kiss.

“Miss Rowley,” Hector tried to raise his voice, but turned a bit away, flustered by the two lovers. “I must insist, we have a show in fifteen minutes.”

Slowly she opened her eyes, her forehead pressed against Randall’s. Bel smiled mischievously, “If this is so Mister Madden, I have to insist, you better put on your best jacket and get some powder on your nose and go for the newsroom, giving us a good show.”

“And what’s with you? You are not coming? Mister Smith,” Hector locked eyes with Randall for a brief second, “our new Head of News by the way, would be very disappointed if his producer wouldn’t be there.”

Bel traced over Randall’s glasses with her fingers, over his ear, down his neck, along his jaw and landed on his lips with it, “Tell him I am there in a minute.” Hector only nodded, slightly jealous over what he had witnessed, and wanted to go, when Bel spoke up once again, “Uhm, actually, tell him, I will not come.”

“Why not?” the answer was clearly the man in her arms, but he still needed another explanation for the Head of News.

Bel locked eyes with Randall. Yes, she wanted to get lost in his green, blue eyes every day. Wanted to be kissed by him in the morning, in the evening and all the time in between. Wanted to come home in his arms, when she would come undone with him. Lay in his arms, when he read something from a book, feel his hand on the small of her back, when she asked him for a dance in the living room. Spend life with him.

“Tell him, ” she began to smile wide, “I resign. With immediate effect.”

Hector couldn’t held back the long groan, that her comment produced in him, “Oh, god, I can’t believe this!”

Both, Randall and Bel looked at him, surprised and slightly confused.

Hector, arms akimbo, started to chuckle while shaking his head toward the ground, and when he looked up again, he pointed his hand out to them, “I expect an invitation to Paris for next summer. Since I told Marnie you leave to Paris, she is all about it!”

“I think, that is something we can do, Mister Madden,” Randall spoke up, his eyes steady on Bel. How could he had been such a fool, to leave to Paris without her in the first place.

“You told her I leave to Paris? How did you know?” Bel then asked when his words became clear to her.

“I told you, you are a clever woman,” Hector smiled. “I knew you would make Mister Brown talk, and first and foremost; you would make him act. And if he is a clever man, he will do everything to make you happy,” they shared a look once more. “You better do, Mister Brown, because if not…”

Randall gave him a smug smile, “I am getting your drift, Mister Madden.”

“Well, then,” Hector turned around, it was now time for him to go to the studio. “Don’t mess this up, guys - and get a room!”

“So you are coming to Paris with me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Not afraid, but… it’s quite a step,” she bit her lips, feeling doubts creep into her mind.

“I’ll promise you, I’ll do everything for you, to make it easy. I’ll promise you a great work atmosphere, a great team. A beautiful flat for both of us, near the Montmartre. I’ll take you to fancy dinners, and dances, if you like,” he took her right hand into his left, his other on her waist and she giggled over the gesture, when he slowly started to sway. “What I can’t promise you, is, that this will work out. There is a huge chance, you will get tired of me, I think, but, till there, I’ll promise you I’ll stay at your side. As your Head of News and …,” he laughed up nervously, “as… well, partner, maybe?”

“The last time I spoke to Mister Giroux from the Parisian office, they told me, my husband was busy keeping his stuff on their toes,” two month ago in a five minutes break from her own demanding work, she had grabbed the receiver at a whim, only to call the BBC in Paris, asking if they really had a nice view down the Seine.

“I know, you don’t want to marry - not for real, but in case you ever change your mind, Miss Rowley,” he made a step back from her, holding her hand, whirling her gently away from him and then back into his arms. “You can ever ask me.”

He would say yes, without hesitation.

“I might do that one day, Mister Brown,” she grabbed his hand, kissed it and then gestured him out of the room. “Let’s go, I want to go home. I have a meeting in an hour.”

Randall took his bag from the floor and was able to only just so to reach for his coat, before Bel dragged him away, “Didn’t you just-”

“-With my Head of News.”

“Oh,” he cocked an eyebrow at her. “And where could this meeting be?”

She leaned toward him, her lips lingering by his, without kissing him, and whispered teasingly, “Bedroom?”

Randall’s eyebrows twitched, his eyes piercing down at her over the rim of his glasses, his lips pursing, breaking into a smile, “Bedroom it is.”

Paris could wait one more night.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plan was a different and for a bit I wasn't sure how to bring the story to the end I had planned. First I wanted to write a good and and a sad end, but I honestly couldn't come up with a sad ending and so I left it. My first idea was to make Bel go to Paris and show up in Randall's office, but that turned out to be utterly boring and I wanted to leave you uncertain till the end, if she would go or not.  
> So I made Randall come back, and I think that was the right thing to do, also as I wrote the last dialogue with Hector I didn't know Randall would come back, not till the moment I wrote the bit about "He should be here...". Sometimes a writer gets surprised by their own story. 
> 
> About the ending; first janescoot has a similar ending in her story, and also I chose Paris as destination in "Collide" with Clara, and it seems it's the only way to go, as the English would have been to scrutinizing with the Bel and Randall, and I honestly couldn't come up with a better idea. I not wanted to get them married (for real) so I came up with this bold idea of faking a marriage. I am not sure if this can go as legit, but I think in the 50s there were not such bureaucracy as today and when one said he/she is married, people went along with it. Well, I took fictional liberty here.  
> The quotes I used in the last part, are mostly from S1, and said by Bel and shall show her characters point - in case anyone wondered, where they come from.
> 
> More to say? I don't think so. That's the end of this story! Thanks all for reading it and having fun with it. It's only a side ship but I really enjoyed writing them both as I can see them as a great couple after all the disappointments they had with previous partners.

**Author's Note:**

> I ended this thing. My plan is not to continue but I have to admit I can imagine to write another chapter, but for now I have other projects I want to write, but maybe I continue after a while - so in case you can imagine to follow a story about those two, subscribe to the story.  
> Also I wanted to say, that I know the 50s/60s where another time, but I know Lix had a one night stand with Freddie in S1, so I think I could go this way, and it's nothing graphical. Bel is a young woman and Randall might be timid and in the first glance it looked out of character, but honestly... I think he is a very passionate character.  
> Tell me what you think, I am always curious and open for ideas and critic.


End file.
